


Corona

by CharlieNozaki



Category: One Piece
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Angst, Death, Discrimination, M/M, Magic, Monsters, Morality, Royalty, Samurai, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:48:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 45,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22318096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieNozaki/pseuds/CharlieNozaki
Summary: As a murderous monster terrorizes the capital of Wano and its surrounding lands, there are only two strong enough to vanquish the beast: A runaway set on defeating the creature once and for all, and a lost samurai who has lived in shadow for far too long. Together, they must discover the balance between darkness and light, or risk that darkness consuming them both.[Fantasy AU. ZoSan. Includes artwork and video.]
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro & Vinsmoke Sanji, Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 87
Kudos: 229





	1. ACT I: Sunset - PART I

**Author's Note:**

> Please note, Wano is the setting for this story, however, **_this fic does not take place in the canon universe, nor the One Piece world as we know it_**. I have taken liberties with many things, including geography and certain characters' roles, that are not consistent with the series. With that said, enjoy!

* * *

✨🌕✨

**_「虎穴に入らずんば虎子を得ず。」_**

**_「If you do not enter the tiger's cave, you will not catch its cub.」_**

* * *

  


_“Fear not, Princess! Your life may be ending, but the country of Wano will never forget your legacy! All will come from far and wide to these very grounds to pay their respects! But now, my duty to the rebellion must be fulfilled! Farewell, Your Highness!”_

_The fierce cry of a young voice forcibly lowered to sound gruff, the rushing slap of bare feet on the stone steps. Then the strong swoop of a swinging bokken stabbed the air, narrowly missing the young princess’ waist, though she immediately screamed in mock pain and collapsed to the ground to writhe in a dramatic show._

_“No--!” she stuttered, hands clutching at her side where the only red that blossomed was the floral pattern of her silk robe. “Brother, how---how could you! I’m---I’m---”_

_A twitching hand reached towards the evening sky, which now spread above the temple grounds in gradients of orange and purple, far more bruised than the nonexistent wounds she’d suffered in the play fight._

_Yet, still, she coughed loudly, gave one final wheeze, and then her head lolled to the side, eyes slipping shut and tongue flopping out of her mouth, the air quiet, save for the chuckles of a few monks who passed by as they tended to the grounds._

_“The Princess is dead!” shouted her opponent, the older boy lifting a triumphant fist before he placed a foot on his ‘dead’ sister’s stomach and slammed his bokken to the stone beneath them. “All of you, bow down before your new emperor!”_

_Nevermind that there was no one to bow, the large sandy courtyard beginning to clear out for the evening, the shuffle of sandals quiet as those come to worship returned home and the monks began to move inside._

_It seemed the new ruler’s reign was to be cut short anyway when his fresh kill suddenly sprang to life to shove at his leg._

_“Ew, Momo! Get your foot off me! You’ll get dirt on my robe!” the girl grumbled, hair a teal tumbleweed, golden ornaments askew and intricate twists unraveled from the style her mother had so lovingly created earlier._

_Hair could be fixed, but clearly not a precious outfit._

_So she lifted her own bokken to swing it at her brother’s shin._

_But, instead of skin, the wooden sword smacked fruitlessly into a tough armor of pink scales that began to tile over the boy’s leg, bones giving a creak as toes lengthened and morphed into a clawed foot that now tugged teasingly at the girl’s robe._

_“Hey! That’s not fair!” she yelped, smacking at his leg anew. “You said you wouldn’t use your Seal!”_

_“You’re already dead!” he shot back, looming over her with a cheeky grin. “I can use it all I want now!”_

_“Momo!” she whined, unbecoming for a princess, and especially one who’d recently turned eleven. But it was hard to shake old habits, particularly when her brother whined back, “Hiyori!” mockingly, and he was thirteen. He definitely should have known better._

_The princess frowned, biting her lip as the familiar sting of tears pricked at her eyes, and as soon as her brother’s foot lifted from her stomach, she flipped to her side and curled up to bury her face in her arms._

_A snicker filtered down to her from her brother, the lump in her throat growing beyond her control._

_But then, a gentle hand landed in her hair, ruffling affectionately, and when she peeked out from behind her arms, Momo was crouched before her with a smile on his face._

_“Hmph!” she huffed, ignoring that smile and going right back to pouting, ready to pout for as long as necessary until...until..._

_“I’ll give you a ride after dinner~”_

_Until her brother uttered those words, the young princess nearly headbutting him in the chin when she shot up with excited haste._

_“Really?!” she exclaimed, giggling as the older boy teetered on his crouched heels for a moment before catching his balance and nodding._

_“Yeah!” he assured. “And if no one’s watching, I can try and fly again~”_

_“Fly, eh?”_

_Suddenly, the addition of a third voice, one that belonged to neither child, and the two siblings instantly jolted, eyes going wide, and a shared grimace passing between them before they turned guiltily to face the voice’s owner._

_“Kawamatsu…” Hiyori squeaked, the wide shadow of their stout retainer falling over them like a blanket of doom, his fiery orange hair ablaze in the warm light of sunset where it sat atop his head in a tightly-bound knot._

_“O-Outside!” Momo amended quickly, with a nervous chuckle and a waving of hands. “I won’t try it in the temple again.”_

_“Yes, the enchanted scrolls would appreciate if their vaults were not destroyed, my Lord~” Kawamatsu said, but his tone was teasing, and though his smirk was hidden behind his red scarf, the mirth still reached his eyes._

_That familiar spark of amusement drew a relieved grin onto the young prince’s face._

_“Lady Hiyori,” Kawamatsu said, turning instead to the princess. “Your mother requests your presence at the palace. I believe for a bath.” His gaze flitted up and down her dirt-stained robes, their colors far less saturated than they were supposed to be, thanks to a day of roughhousing in the dusty outdoors. For all she’d vowed to keep them clean, it hadn’t amounted to much._

__

_The disheveled girl let out a groan._

__

_“What about Momo?” she whined._

__

_“Yes, Lord Momonosuke as well.”_

__

_This was all it took for a mischievous grin to spring back to the princess’ face._

__

_“Okay~” she chirped, though she didn’t move from where she sat, the girl leaning back casually on her palms._

__

_“Preferably within the next twenty years,” Kawamatsu chided, though the twinkle in his eye was fond as he quirked an eyebrow down at her._

__

_“Momo, carry me!” Hiyori demanded, her brother immediately looking to Kawamatsu, his brown eyes wide and pleading, complete with a manipulative wibble of his bottom lip until the samurai huffed out a helpless sigh and nodded._

__

_The boy lit up excitedly, then backed away a few steps._

__

_He crouched down on the stones, planting his hands onto the ground, and gave a preparatory roll of his shoulders. He was getting much better at full-body transformations, had been practicing often in the castle gardens, out on the samurai training grounds, anywhere there was space, really. He’d even done so in his own quarters, but his parents weren’t allowed to find out about that._

__

_So, a deep breath, and another flex of his back was all it took before his robe began to billow and change in a self-contained wind, the pink satin tearing away from his body where it morphed into scales which flitted about and stuck to his skin like the petals of cherry blossoms in spring. Limbs shortened, claws replacing fingers and toes, his face elongating into a snout and his back stretching as the full snake-like length of his dragon form took shape._

__

_The final row of golden ridges popped up from the crown of his horned head to the tuft of his tail, and there he stood, transformation complete._

__

_Hiyori giggled in delight, immediately lunging for her brother and clambering onto his long back. He was far from full-grown, still small, but he was the perfect size for her, the girl settling comfortably onto his back, hands able to grip his horns for support._

__

_Momonosuke bore sharp teeth in a grin, the dragon boy turning his head to give their retainer a once-over._

__

_“Sorry, Kawamatsu, but…”_

__

_He laughed, knowing there was no way he’d be able to carry the large man as well. That was a challenge for when he grew much bigger._

__

_Hiyori was easy cargo, however, and so, he kicked off the ground, to his sister’s glee, his long tail like a rudder behind him as he rose up to hover several feet off the ground, reaching Kawamatsu’s eye level, the retainer shooting him a warning look..._

__

_Only to nearly come crashing right back down in surprise when a loud snarled cry cut through the air, the three of them whipping heads towards the large gates to the temple grounds that still stood open to the street beyond._

__

_Striding into the yard was an odd sight._

__

_A hulking man was lumbering through the gates, a stranger unlike any they’d seen in Wano, his form far more massive than even the children’s own father, who stood taller and broader than any in the kingdom._

__

_This man’s bootsteps seemed to shake the ground itself, his shirtless form incredibly muscled, the feathered purple coat draped over his shoulders barely clinging to their absurd width. A burst of coiled black locks fell from his head in cords, matching his beard and impressively long mustache._

__

_But perhaps most curious of all was the source of those startling sounds that had drawn their attention in the first place._

__

_The stranger’s hand was clamped tightly in the fabric of a shirt, a shirt worn by a small boy, (several years younger than Hiyori even, it appeared) who he carried clear off the ground, the child thrashing and growling as he struggled to be free of that dangling grip._

__

_The boy’s unkempt hair stuck out on end in mossy tufts, his appearance clearly worse for wear, but his expression one of a ferocious little fighter, whose flailing only grew stronger the further the man carried him into the temple grounds, past confused monks making their final rounds and lingering worshippers on their way out as well._

__

_The imposing man continued his slow march, unbothered, until he reached the foot of the stairs where the three stood, dropping the boy to the ground unceremoniously and holding him down with a foot crushed to his back._

__

_“I request an audience with Emperor Oden,” the man rumbled, voice impossibly low and gruff. “I was told I’d find him here.”_

__

_Kawamatsu stepped forward on the landing above, looking down on the stranger with a scrutinizing gaze._

__

_“I’m afraid he returned to the palace a short time ago,” the retainer said after a moment, his eyes flicking to the boy still struggling to get up beneath the man’s boot. “If the matter is urgent, you may accompany us. We are returning now also. What is your matter of business?”_

__

_Before the stranger could answer, however, Momonosuke shifted, landing back onto the ground and forcing his sister off his back with a shake and an indignant huff from the girl. The young prince reared up on his hind legs and gave his body a roll, scales seeming to fall off and twirl themselves back into his floral robe, skin smoothing and morphing until he stood in his human form once again._

__

_“I am Kozuki Momonosuke, son of the Emperor,” the boy announced in a practiced speech, descending a few steps to address the visitor closer. “Any concerns or requests may be directed at me and I shall relay the message to my father.”_

__

_A long silence followed, the stranger watching the prince curiously, head tilting slowly as he stared._

__

_“An impressive transformation,” the man finally observed, a flash of teeth glinting. “You were born with a Seal, were you not?”_

__

_For a moment, the prince looked surprised before he smiled and nodded eagerly, puffing up his chest proudly. It wasn’t often he was able to showcase his powers to someone new._

__

_“Ah, yes!” the prince confirmed. “There are quite a few born with Seals in our country, though none as powerful as mine, the Seal of the Dragon. That’s why I will be tasked with the protection of Wano when I get older!”_

__

_“Indeed,” the man replied, his voice but a movement of turbulent air from his lips._

__

_Another snarl from the little boy still at the stranger’s feet, and the man slowly removed his foot from the child’s back, though he planted a hand down on that green hair the moment the boy pushed up to his knees._

__

_“I am known as Kaido,” the stranger said, raising his voice. “My crew and I are...travelers… We’ve come to your proud country from across the sea in search of something. Though I would never be so rude as to steal it. No, I’ve brought my payment. A trade, if you will.”_

__

_“We are always open to trade,” Momonosuke began to say, though this time, Kawamatsu stepped closer, moving ever so slightly in front of the princess, who still stood, pouting, on the landing of the stairs._

__

_“Trade deals must be discussed with the Emperor directly,” Kawamatsu explained, wariness in his eyes. “So, as I said, you may accompany us back to the--”_

__

_“Take him.”_

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_And with no further ceremony, Kaido’s hand clenched painfully in the boy’s hair, shoving him forward against the steps, where small hands hastily caught himself with a yelp, just barely saving his chin from a painful collision with the stone._

__

_“I have no use for him anymore,” Kaido explained. “He is my payment.”_

__

_At this, the two young royals’ expressions morphed into owlish surprise, Kawamatsu’s the opposite as his features narrowed with ever-growing suspicion._

__

_“Surely you jest…” the retainer said. “I don’t know where you’ve come from, but humans will never be currency in Wano. Least of all children.”_

__

_“He has a Seal as well,” Kaido answered, clearly with no qualms over his rough treatment of the child. In fact, he reached out to grab the boy again, this time by the collar, yanking him back up, if only to rip open the first few buttons of his shirt, revealing a circular brand of black design emblazoned on the skin of his nervously heaving chest._

__

_“Seal or not, a life is a life,” Kawamatsu insisted, his eyes flicking to the boy’s face, where brave defiance was rapidly becoming fear. “Humans are equal and---”_

__

_“Exactly,” Kaido replied, his hand letting go of the boy, who tumbled back to his knees with a pained grunt. “A life….for a life.”_

__

_For a man so massive, the movement it took for Kaido to draw his sword from its blood-red sheath was nearly unnoticeable until it was far too late. With a speed entirely unforeseen, the beast of a man shot forward up the stairs, three at a time, until that sword nestled itself, swiftly and mercilessly, into the stomach of the young prince, who hadn’t even a moment to react before the blade twisted in his gut, causing a torrent of blood to spill from his lips._

__

_The world stood frozen, somehow, despite the horrified scream of the princess behind him, the dull thud of the prince’s body collapsing to the stone, his life blood pooling beneath him, seeping through those silk robes, eyes glazed and unseeing._

__

_Kaido yanked the blade from his prey’s stomach with a spray of gore, boot already toeing the prince’s limp body onto his back, where a light had begun to glow on his chest, lifting right off to hover inches above his form in the same familiar shape of a Seal, lines curving and intersecting in their own unique symbol._

__

_A far too delayed, but no less anguished, cry from up the steps, as Kawamatsu finally broke free from his shock, the retainer charging the murderer with his own katana drawn, hot, enraged tears burning._

__

_But a mere flick of his wrist was all it took for Kaido to stop him, his blade an unmoving wall that rose to clash with Kawamatsu’s, effortlessly stopping his swing without so much as a glance._

__

_Instead, Kaido’s hungry gaze stayed fixed on that glowing shape above the prince, his laughter a slow rumble in his chest as he lifted his free hand and plunged it right into the light just before it could vanish._

__

_Immediately, it traveled up his arm in a snaking pattern, the inky form of a skull and scales searing itself into his skin in a new mark as the Seal finally settled itself over his heart and sunk beneath the surface into his body._

__

_He slashed his sword to the side, sending Kawamatsu stumbling, and straightened, his sick laughter only rising in intensity until it reached maddening heights._

__

_And then, tossing his weapon away, he flexed muscles, which immediately tore themselves in a burst of blue scales that now tiled over his body, growing, growing, until he dwarfed Kawamatsu’s cowering form, the stairs, the temple itself._

__

_And where the man had once stood, now hovered an enormous dragon, a flick of its tail enough to shatter the wall opposite the temple, sending those nearby scattering with terrified cries._

__

_Kaido’s laughter distorted, seemed to layer with the force of a thousand demons, another mere thrash of his body ripping the roof off the adjacent monks’ quarters, and when he reared back his great head, an explosion of volcanic flame erupted from his gigantic maw._

__

_Another swish of his tail that slammed a gaping crater into the ground, and his body lifted even higher, abandoning the chaos below and taking flight towards the castle that lay beyond, another thunderous spout of fire torching the temple as he soared off._

__

_Pandemonium followed, the crumbling temple grounds suddenly rushed by hordes of armed intruders, who stormed through the gates with a vengeance of evil war cries and fiercely wielded weapons that struck down anything and anyone in their way._

__

_Hiyori slunk down the steps, the distraught girl collapsing with heavy sobs and pleas over her brother’s still chest._

__

_And yet, Kawamatsu couldn’t move, his fallen sword scattered several paces away and his shocked gaze fixed on his two young charges, one of whom was gone, both of whom he’d failed._

__

_He knelt there on the steps and stared as the temple took flame around him, as the intruders below spilled yet more blood, the very sky above turning a thick, smoky gray as the capital began to burn, Kaido’s roar still rumbling in the distance._

__

_Hiyori’s cries deafened even that._

__

_Kawamatsu’s hand clamped down on the hilt of his katana, and he lifted the blade to his head, where he took hold of his topknot and sliced through the hair, letting it tumble to the ground in a shower of disgraced strands._

__

_Then he forced himself to move, grabbing hold of Hiyori roughly and physically dragging her off her brother, which only made her screams grow louder and more hysterical. He slipped arms under the fallen prince and hoisted his body against his chest, then took Hiyori and forced her up the stairs towards the temple’s interior, dodging falling roof tiles and beams the closer they got._

__

_“Wait! Wait! Don’t leave me here!”_

__

_A small voice called behind him, but he ignored it, pulling the princess into the temple’s main alcove, up to the altar, where stood a massive golden cabinet, aglow in the flames that licked down from the ceiling high above._

__

_Carefully, he lay the prince’s body down before the altar, released the princess’ arm, only to throw open the filigreed doors to that forbidden cabinet, inside which rested row upon row of stacked paper scrolls, all of which shimmered like a mirage with the magic that rippled over each._

__

_Kawamatsu reached in, ripping out the closest scroll, beside which sat an equally golden ink pot and brush._

__

_“Your Highness!” he growled, yet again having to pull the girl off her brother’s form where she’d collapsed again in a fit of tears._

__

_He yanked her to her feet, just as he unfurled the scroll, its thin paper blank, but seeming to shudder with anticipation._

__

_Hastily, Kawamatsu took hold of the brush, dipping it into the pot, its bristles coming out as luminescent as the last rays of the sun which now struggled to fight through the darkening sky outside._

__

_He took the brush to the scroll, took but a moment to consider his words, and scrawled:_

__

__

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_**Travel without harm,** _

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_  
_

__

__

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_**Away to a foreign land,** _

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_  
_

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_**Where safety awaits.** _

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_As soon as the brush lifted from the paper, the words shone, brushstrokes white and heated before they began to sink into the page, searing golden._

__

_He dropped the brush, quickly passed the scroll into the young princess’ trembling hands, her watery eyes flickering, terrified, in the ever-approaching flames._

__

_“I will carry this guilt until the day I die, Lady Hiyori,” he gritted out fiercely, just before the light from the scroll grew, enveloping the girl’s entire form, swallowing up her stricken features._

__

_And when the light finally exploded outward, it took her with it, the burst erasing her form from where it stood, leaving Kawamatsu alone in the crumbling temple._

__

_He fell to his knees beside the lifeless prince, finally losing himself to his own powerful sobs, which spilled shamefully, the sound of shattering timber and the crackle of flames a cruel symphony in his ears._

__

_Behind him, at the entrance to the temple, another young voice sobbed, that of a moss-headed boy, cowering at the foot of a pillar._

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_“Wake up---wake up---wake up!” he cried, small fingers gripping in his hair as if he could rouse himself from his surrounding terror._

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_But to no avail. For his nightmare had only just begun._

* * *

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✨ 🌖✨

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The hand gripping his bow had a quiver as visible as the one on his back, stocked with arrows he did not feel confident possessing, let alone shooting.

__

His heart throbbed uncomfortably in his chest, right along with his head, clear signs of fatigue and hunger that had crept up on him steadily as the days had passed and the supplies he’d managed to steal away with him had dwindled to little but crumbs and river water.

__

Three days now he’d struggled to hunt, never quite stealthy enough to sneak up on larger prey, and never with proficient aim or force enough to bag rabbits or birds.

__

It was pathetic, he knew. His plan to leave had been a hasty one, born from panic and fear, hardly well thought-out, and if Époni hadn’t managed to sneak him out through the kitchens, he knew he wouldn’t have gotten anywhere.

__

But the persistent ache of his mother’s recent death and the fresh bruises still decorating his ribs were enough to remind him that he couldn’t have stayed, even knowing as little as he did about survival. Even with how weak he was. How weak he’d always been, according to his father, his brothers.

__

He didn’t care about them, couldn’t, because in his entire nineteen years of life, he could not recall a time they’d ever shown him compassion, much less love.

__

No, only his mother had. And though he believed his sister was kind deep down, she was far too timid and complacent to help him anymore. Not alone, in the face of his father’s threats.

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And so there he was, far from the place that had hardly been his home, impossibly lost in the mountainous forest that surrounded him for miles upon miles, the sunlight sinking ever lower through the trees.

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Still, however much his vision wavered dizzily, he forced himself to keep his eyes trained on the doe that grazed quietly in the clearing ahead of him, the small field peppered with the silhouettes of the rest of the herd in the twilight.

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His stomach gave a protesting grumble, threatening to give away his position, tucked within the tree line. He knew he already stood out in the greenery in his tunic, which still shone far too light amongst the foliage, despite the dirt and grime sullying it after days in the outdoors. He didn’t necessarily have an advantage here.

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The doe stayed put though, a small relief.

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He’d never thought himself privileged, certainly not, but he was coming to realize that perhaps he had been. After all, he’d never had to worry about procuring ingredients before.

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Still, just that one doe would be enough. There were dozens grazing, but he wasn’t to be greedy. He could cook one easily. He knew everything there was to know about the culinary arts, to what had been his father’s dismay and his mother’s joy.

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He focused on that, how proud his mother would surely be if he succeeded in this one measly task. She was the only one driving him now, even from beyond the grave.

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Breathing in deeply through his nose, he let eyes shut for a brief moment, as they so wanted to in his fatigue, before opening them and refocusing, willing his trembling arms to steady and straighten, pulling the nocked arrow back.

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_“Please,”_ he breathed.

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And before his aim could shift any more, he let go, the arrow’s fletching just barely ruffling his blond hair as it took off past his face.

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It never reached its target.

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The arrow had barely left his hand before an ear-splitting roar sliced the air, instantly spooking his prey.

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His heart leapt, as well as the rest of his body, which jolted in sheer horror, sending the hairs on the back of his neck springing to attention, his skin prickling with the awful sensation of goosebumps.

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A crackle of leaves. Movement in the dark. And then, from the treeline across the clearing, burst forth an enormous creature, surely double his height. It bounded from the shadows on all fours, shaking massive tree trunks like twigs, its weight quaking the ground each time its lumbering feet touched down.

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In one leap, the creature soared across half the clearing, clawed appendages lashing out to swipe down an unfortunate deer, the prey letting out a terrified, dying squeal before the monster sunk gargantuan canines into its stomach with a sickening crunch, and it slumped, lifeless and limp in the creature’s jaws.

__

It soon hit the ground with a heavy thud, the monster abandoning it to give chase to several other deer, whose short legs held no hope of escaping the hunter’s long strides.

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The blond stared, eyes as wide and glistening as the setting sun, breaths which he now hardly dared to take beginning to shudder out of him at a quickening pace. It was all he could do, breathe, and barely at that, even though every fiber of his being screamed for him to _run._

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The creature was like nothing he had ever seen. It was feline, and black as the darkest night sky, but with faint stripes of glimmering orange that gave the appearance of fire flickering through shadow when powerful muscles rippled its fur.

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Surely he wasn’t in his right mind. Surely he’d begun to hallucinate, the result of days of exhaustion, for though he physically felt the tremor of the creature’s roar and pounding paws in his chest, as solidly as his own fearful heartbeat, this was impossible. Yes, magic existed in the world, but this was no magical being he knew.

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This was a demon that darted as swiftly as lightning, felling its prey for sport it seemed, striking as if the mere act of the hunt was pleasurable, its body quickly crouching for the next pounce as soon as one deer lay dead at its feet.

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It was, without a doubt, a murderer.

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And it was one that he soon found staring directly at him with eyes, pupil-less and red, that seemed to glow, piercing spots in the darkness that permeated around them.

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The creature had lifted its great head from its last remaining prey, bloody saliva dripping from its gore-stained maw, and locked onto the blond’s form with a precision and awareness unforeseen in his blinding panic.

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It was ready for him.

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He couldn’t move, even his breathing coming to a choked halt as one paw hit the ground and that shadowy form moved, an undulating mass in the grass, stalking straight for him.

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He couldn’t consciously move, and yet his body stumbled backwards, shoulders knocking and scraping hard onto the trunk of a tree as his bow and arrow fell from his grasp and his hands began to fruitlessly flail for something, _anything,_ that might save him.

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There was nothing though, nothing but those devilish eyes and black form growing impossibly larger, eclipsing even the setting sun in the distance.

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He should have run, climbed, shot, _screamed_ at the very least, but the air was silent, his own frantic gasps the only sound in his ear, the creature making no noise as it approached.

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His vision undulated, a wave of dizziness washing over the panic, muscles trembling and yet staying hopelessly frozen when he found himself face to face with those red orbs which looked bigger than his own clenched fists, teeth, bore in a snarl, longer than a sickle and twice as sharp.

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He was going to die, he realized with thick dread that brought a debilitating nausea to his stomach. Those teeth and claws were going to be his vessels to the next world by way of agony that would surely be worse than any he’d suffered at the hands of his brothers.

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A low growl shook the throat of the creature, rumbling like thunder, its hot breath hardly a summer breeze before the storm.

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The beast shifted, shoulder blades like mountain peaks growing against the sky, the rough scraping of dirt audible as it raked claws slowly through the earth, and the blond was certain his heart stopped prematurely in anticipation of the inevitable.

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A wetness on his cheeks, and he realized that, in his terror, tears had escaped without his knowledge. He was nothing but a helpless child again, staring pain in the face, but with nothing, not even that horrible iron mask, to protect him.

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The blow was coming. The creature was moving...

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But it seemed fate was merciful in that moment, as racing breaths gave him little air, his head starting to spin and vision beginning to gray beyond recognition. Muscles shook, far beyond his control now, and he began to collapse, darkness encompassing his world, the only thing persisting those crimson moons that stayed, imprinted, until his last conscious moments.

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Eyes fluttered shut, welcoming the relief of what would now, thankfully, be a painless death.

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He heard claws shift again, another rumbling growl. Something solid hit his chest.

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A flash of blinding light in the darkness.

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Then, nothing.

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* * *

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He was warm next he knew. Warm, and though a dull throb soon pierced his temples, pink light from behind closed eyelids slowly reaching his awakening senses, he found he wasn’t in pain.

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Yet, he didn’t want to move.

__

Instead, he lay as he was, prone on his back, he was coming to realize, with hardness beneath him and softness above, the unmistakable feel of fabric covering his form, rising and falling slowly with the breaths he was now aware of taking.

__

And his heart…. Yes, that was beating too, pulsing the ache in his head if he concentrated hard enough, which meant only one thing.

__

Somehow, he was alive. He’d survived the---

__

Eyes shot open to a dusty blue sky as he sucked in a sharp inhale, renewed panic filling him, along with the returning memory of what he’d assumed to be his last moments, jagged teeth, piercing eyes.

__

He scrambled to sit up, head giving a stomach-churning spin, forcing him to plant a hand onto the ground for stability as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.

__

There was grass, he saw, beneath his palm, a green expanse that carpeted the earth and lapped at the edge of the forest, which stood, far less dark and intimidating now, in what looked to be early morning light, dawn poking teasingly through the trees in thousands of slivers.

__

He heard the whistling of birds, the rustle of the breeze in the leaves high above him, and he realized he was alone, with no sign of the monster.

__

Was this the same clearing? What had happened? There was no way a beast as bloodthirsty as that had truly abandoned him, _spared_ him. No, it had to be nearby. He just wasn’t looking hard enough. Surely it lurked in the shadows, camouflaged itself there. He wasn’t safe. He couldn’t let his guard down.

__

He dared shift himself slightly, only to pause, eyes widening upon seeing a dark green patterned blanket draped over his lower half. No, not a blanket.... A robe...

__

A hand, strong and solid, clamped down on his shoulder, hard and sudden enough to have him flinch, a sharp cry of surprise leaving him involuntarily.

__

He whirled around, and there, crouched beside him, was a man, his brow furrowed, apparently no qualms about staring. The man tilted his head slowly, watching….studying?

__

It was much the same as the previous night, the blond quickly finding himself frozen in his surprise, unsure of how to react or what to even do under that scrutinizing gaze, most of all unsure of why it affected him so.

__

The stranger was clad only in a pair of loose trousers, the white silken robe he wore tied around his waist left open to bare his chest, perhaps more muscular than any of the blond’s brothers’, which was a feat in and of itself.

__

Though, quite like said brothers, the blond found himself a bit alarmed to see the stranger bore the mark of a Seal over his heart, a unique jagged circle of jet black on his skin, angular lines curving and intersecting in what must have been some kind of abstract symbol or pattern, though the blond did not recognize it.

__

Whatever it was, it meant this man possessed magic of some form, though how he’d acquired it was unknown. Through birth? Had he killed for it, absorbing the power from the dead as so many did? Either way, as the blond knew, this was much to be intimidated by, perhaps even feared.

__

That was the logical response, in his mind, but to the blond, it was also something he’d always envied. His own lack of one was the very reason behind all of his suffering, he knew.

__

And yet, despite that, he found himself drawn, not to the mark, but to the man’s face, rather close to his.

__

The stranger’s features were sharp, much more so than the people of the blond’s own country, and his dark eyes were intense in their depth, a brown that nearly blended with his pupils in the shade of his furrowed brow.

__

His hair too was foreign, not in its mossy color, but in its odd style, cropped short in wavy spikes, save for a longer knot tied up at the crown of his head.

__

But instead of an all-too-familiar sneer of malice (one the blond knew from experience to precede physical violence), a look of mild puzzlement began to color the stranger’s face, one brow quirking slowly as eyes gave a quick flick over the blond’s form.

__

“You’re awake,” the stranger finally noted, with a hint of a differing accent, and a smooth voice that settled low in his throat, clearly unperturbed by the long silence.

__

The blond stared at him, almost in disbelief at his casual tone, when the last thing he remembered before losing consciousness had been certain death leering him in the face, and the first sight upon awakening had been this equally affecting man.

__

A long moment, and then he squeezed eyes shut, shaking his head quickly before opening them again to fix the stranger with a baffled expression of his own.

__

“Who are---?” He huffed out a breath, changing his line of thought, frustrated at his own inability to focus.

__

“N-No, we have to get away from here!” he exclaimed instead, in spite of the confusion and uncertainty he felt with the odd man’s presence. “There’s---!”

__

He flicked a paranoid gaze at the treeline nearby. “In this forest, there was---!” And at the risk of sounding entirely mad, he blurted out, “A-A monster! A huge monster---I-I saw it! It killed---i-it was going to kill m---”

__

“I know,” the stranger interrupted bluntly. “I saved you. You’re welcome.”

__

Again, the blond found he could only gape and stammer, certainly due to the other man’s bizarre calmness and not his aching head, which hadn’t been remedied by his bout of unconsciousness.

__

“Wha---I---wait, you saved me?” he stuttered. “You fought that creature?”

__

The blond’s shock only earned him another unimpressed lift of the stranger’s brow, the man gesturing to his hip, where sat a trio of swords, tightly wrapped and secured there by a long purple sash, the excess fabric hanging like a tail behind him.

__

Still, the stranger’s smugness soon simpered into a dissatisfied scowl in response, his gaze dropping somewhat shamefully to the softly waving grass surrounding them.

__

“Would’ve,” the man muttered. “But it ran off.”

__

The swordsman let out a frustrated breath and shook his head, but the brief turmoil in his eyes quickly dissipated as he lifted them back to the blond.

__

“I saw all the carnage….found you passed out,” he explained. “Thought you were dead too for a minute.”

__

So this man knew of the monster? Had plans to fight it? But how could one man, even a swordsman, hope to kill a creature built for just that?

__

And that didn’t explain how he still found himself in one piece...

__

“You must have the devil’s luck on your side though,” mumbled the swordsman a moment later, as if reading the blond’s thoughts. “I dunno how the hell you managed to wander out here this damn far. ‘Nother hour and you would’ve hit Mount Fuji, and your luck would’ve sure as hell run out there. You lost or something?”

__

His location in the world was hardly concerning the blond in that moment though, despite the rather impressive snow-capped peak that was indeed visible in the distance now that daylight crept in. More importantly...

__

“So I’m not insane?” the blond asked quickly. “That beast was---was real?”

__

The blond’s confusion was entirely legitimate, as far as he knew, but the swordsman merely rolled his eyes before narrowing them with seriousness.

__

“It’s real,” he replied. “You didn’t answer my question.”

__

The blond huffed with growing impatience, and for what, he wasn’t sure. But he was certain any questions _he_ had were far more pressing than anything the straightforward swordsman could ask.

__

“I’m---” he started.

__

But he was forced to stop short when a breeze tickled past them lightly.

__

It was an unassuming breeze, but it may as well have hit them with the force of a similarly rampaging beast, because with it, crashing its way into the blond’s suddenly keen awareness, was the smell of smoke. But not just any smoke.

__

Smoke that came from _cooking,_ the heavenly scent of meat hot on its trail.

__

“Do you have food?” the blond all but yelped, the horrible ache in his stomach returning to him full force at merely the thought of something substantial to eat.

__

All mysteries of the previous night aside, what mattered most was sustenance, and it sent his heart pounding harder in his chest with the hope. He shoved what was most likely the swordsman’s robe off his body and struggled to get himself to his feet, limbs still shaky as a newborn deer (one surely about to be devoured by a giant predatory feline in this damn forest).

__

“Ye---o-oi!” the swordsman exclaimed when the blond all but toppled over in a dizzy heap. “You can’t just---you’re gonna collapse all over again, idiot!”

__

Sturdy hands shot out to steady him, which the blond nearly shoved off out of instinct.

__

“Shut up,” muttered the blond, resisting the urge to wince at his throbbing temples. “You were cooking venison and you didn’t tell me!”

__

A push to the swordsman’s chest to get the man’s grip off him before he’d targeted the previously-unnoticed fire circle set up in the grass a short distance away.

__

A steadily burning flame within a circle of stones. The bloody remains of a crudely butchered deer carcass discarded to the side.

__

And there, over the fire, skewered rather sloppily on a series of sticks, his prize.

__

Several mouth-watering slabs of meat roasting there with a familiar aroma that had never smelled so good.

__

The temptation of that smoky scent spurred the blond onward, forced legs to move until he fell to his knees by the fireside, all but sticking his head over the licking flames to inspect the meat.

__

And it wasn’t long before that primitively prepared meat was expertly cooked, sliced, and served up on some flat rocks found near the site, the blond’s experienced hands working dexterously as he went, his body seeming to regain energy from the mere act of preparing food.

__

He’d shoved a portion towards the baffled swordsman, who’d stood nearby the entire time, watching as if he’d never seen food properly cooked before, which he may not have, judging by his rather uncivilized appearance.

__

The blond didn’t wait for him, for once uncaring of both his lack of manners and utensils, using fingers to pop a chunk of meat into his mouth, barely resisting the urge to moan his elation as he chewed. That just wouldn’t do when he had a boorish stranger staring him down.

__

Said stranger did slowly lower himself to the ground though with a sarcastically muttered, “Help yourself,” before he too lifted a whole steak to his mouth and tore into it almost as viciously as the monster had the previous night.

__

Even through his feasting, the blond managed a spare moment to eye the swordsman with disgust.

__

The swordsman met that leer with an unbothered lift of his brow, an increasingly frequent look of his, his own gaze glancing over the blond before opening his already full mouth to garble out, “You’re eating like you thought you were gonna die.”

__

That comment, barely intelligible though it was, was still enough to have a wave of embarrassment crash over the blond, who forcibly slowed his chewing and set down his own makeshift platter to show he _did_ have some self-restraint.

__

“I had an enormous beast corner me in the forest in the dead of night,” he shot back. “Of course I assumed I was going to die.”

__

This earned him an irritated huff of breath from the swordsman, and why, he couldn’t fathom, nor could he quite understand why he was being so confrontational with the man. Apparently, this stranger had saved his life, yet the manners and etiquette he’d had drilled into his brain from birth seemed to fly far away and descend to Hell itself in the mosshead’s presence. He had no choice but to blame it on his own malnutrition.

__

Not that said mosshead seemed to have any better clue about being polite when he asked bluntly, “Who are you anyway?”

__

The blond blinked, a shot of panic rushing him quickly before he countered, “Shouldn’t you introduce yourself first?”

__

A scowl that was becoming predictable marred the swordsman’s features, though he did reply.

__

“Zoro,” he answered, then stared at the blond expectantly.

__

As if the man was going to get a direct answer right away because the blond was far too busy thinking of a response.

__

He’d left home with the intention of leaving _everything,_ starting fresh and anonymous. Did that include abandoning his own name?

__

Admittedly, and perhaps foolishly, through it all, he hadn’t really considered it. After all, it was rather impossible to remain anonymous in his own country. But maybe somewhere else….

__

It was only when this ‘Zoro’ began twirling a hand insistently in a rude gesture to elicit an answer, staring harder, that he finally replied.

__

“I’m...San…..goro,” he muttered in response, resisting the urge to cringe at his own concoction, but dammit, they had been the first syllables his lips had produced on the spot. And it wasn’t as if the swordsman’s name was any better.

__

“Sangoro,” Zoro repeated, voice thick with skepticism.

__

But the blond confirmed it with deadpan confidence and a look that dared the man to challenge it.

__

“Sangoro.”

__

Zoro stared at him for a long moment, judgment clear in his eyes, but eventually he seemed to give up and sighed heavily, going back to his meal without further question, something Sangoro was glad for.

__

He returned to his as well, taking his time now that his initial desperation had quelled, letting the meat revitalize him, though part of him did long for the vast array of spices Époni kept in the kitchens. He could make this so much more flavorful with even some simple salt and pepper...

__

But the uncultured swordsman clearly didn’t care, stuffing his face in silence until he was left with nothing else but his fingers to lick clean, something Sangoro looked pointedly away from so as not to make himself sick.

__

Of course, the swordsman only continued to showcase his worst manners when he pulled an oddly-shaped bottle off his waist belt, popped it open, and proceeded to guzzle back half of its contents, clear liquid dribbling down his chin.

__

When he finished with a loud, satisfied sigh, the blond could sit quiet no longer.

__

“Do you always eat like a child?” he grumbled, a scowl forming when Zoro lifted a sleeve to wipe at his face. Sangoro remedied his observation. “Actually, no. I’ve seen children with better manners than you. You eat like an animal.”

__

Zoro merely shrugged, tossing the stick that had skewered his meat back into the fire and leaning back on a palm.

__

“Never anyone around to watch me,” he mumbled.

__

“That shouldn’t matter!” Sangoro shot back, but it seemed there was no getting through to the oaf, who’d lifted a finger to pick at his inner ear.

__

And here he was apparently in this lout’s debt for saving his life. Truth be told, and muscles aside, Sangoro wasn’t sure he could picture this man wielding a sword with any finesse whatsoever.

__

“Where are you heading?” Zoro eventually asked when he seemed satisfied with the cleanliness of his ear, settling back to watch the blond again with mild disinterest.

__

Sangoro spared his companion a glance as he finished his last bite of venison. Then, stalling for time, he set aside his serving stone and began scanning the area for his small satchel and arrow quiver, which he found lying nearby in the grass, along with his bow.

__

“Anywhere but where I came from,” he said, pushing to his feet, without dizziness thankfully, and crossing to his belongings where he crouched down, also thankful to find some water still inside his flask.

__

“Which is…?” Zoro’s voice rumbled behind him.

__

“Nowhere that concerns you,” Sangoro muttered over his shoulder as he took a swig, keeping his gaze steadily away.

__

“Well, you’re not from Wano, that’s for sure,” Zoro replied. “Anyone here would know how to make it in the forest.”

__

“With giant beasts wreaking havoc?” Sangoro shot back, closing the flask and securing it to his waist at his girdle, along with his satchel, unsure why they’d been removed in the first place. At least the swordsman hadn’t stolen anything by the looks of it.

__

“This is a country of _samurai,”_ Zoro justified, as if that explained everything, but it hardly did when Sangoro had yet to see a demonstration of the man’s skills.

__

“Not very good samurai if you let that thing get away,” the blond muttered, settling down on the ground once more to check over his remaining arrows for damage. “What the hell was it anyway? Never seen anything like it...”

__

_“Nothing that concerns you,”_ Zoro retorted mockingly, his face irritatingly smug when Sangoro shot a scowl his way. Still, his smirk did fade, the swordsman’s eyes averting as his brow furrowed.

__

“A dark being,” he clarified, with a hint of reluctance. “It’s been hunting close to the capital lately, but the Empress is worried it’ll go after livestock, or even people next. S’my job to kill it…”

__

Sangoro’s features tensed, looking at the arrows in his lap, the pathetic arrows that surely wouldn’t have held any hope of subduing such a beast. He’d thought, when he left his home, that maybe he could prove his own strength, finally. _Show_ that he was capable and return as some great warrior, prove his father wrong.

__

….But if this forest contained monsters like that, then he knew he didn’t stand a chance. For all the training in the world, there was no hope for him. Because he was still the only one in his family who lacked one very important thing.

__

“You have a Seal…” he muttered, blue eyes flicking up to that ink-like mark on Zoro’s broad chest, unable to quite hide the bitter hint of jealousy in his voice. The mark looked as inconsequential as a tattoo, but held great power within, the blond knew. He knew not the specifics of Zoro’s, but if it was anything like his siblings’....

__

“Yeah,” the swordsman replied bluntly, almost defensively, particularly when he added, “So?”

__

Sangoro shook his head.

__

“So nothing,” he replied, frankly quite uncaring of Zoro’s feelings on the matter. The swordsman had no right to complain about such a damn lucky mark, and the blond did not want to hear him brag about it either.

__

So he quickly changed the subject, returning his arrows to his quiver and slipping the strap over his head to secure them at his back again.

__

“Where’s the nearest town?”

__

There was a pause, the swordsman looking almost surprised for a brief moment, brows lifting slightly. But the look was gone as soon as it appeared, and he pushed himself to his sandaled feet to gather up his discarded robe, throwing the heavier fabric over his shoulders.

__

“I’ll bring you to the Flower Capital,” he announced, to which Sangoro couldn’t help but balk somewhat.

__

The Flower Capital… So they were close to Wano’s center. Sangoro hadn’t been expecting as much. Perhaps if that beast hadn’t attacked, he could have made it on his own with just a short walk more. At the very least, it would have saved him an encounter with this moss-headed ‘Zoro’....

__

“I didn’t say I needed an escort,” the blond snapped in response, standing as well and brushing some grass off his trousers. “I can get there on my own. Just tell me the direction.”

__

Zoro scoffed, looking displeased in the midst of putting out the fire with the meager remains of his jug’s contents, whatever poisonous liquid was inside actually causing the flames to flare up angrily before being doused.

__

“Shut up and follow me….” he muttered, securing the jug to his hip belt once more. “Unless you’d rather stay out here and starve to death, as it seemed you were trying to.”

__

“I wasn’t!” Sangoro automatically shot back, offended and thoroughly annoyed. “I merely….miscalculated my own hunting abilities….”

__

“Well, you weren’t going to kill anything with those blunt arrows, that’s for sure,” Zoro critiqued, the swordsman bending over to pluck a long blade of grass from the ground, sticking it in his mouth for some unknown, but certainly idiotic, reason. He turned to face the blond, almost expectantly. “You coming or not?”

__

Sangoro let out a heavy sigh, shifting his gaze to the adjacent forest that he’d wandered for the past few days. The trees looked inviting now, with their cool shade and dancing leaves, but the blond knew, though he wouldn’t be admitting it out loud, that it would be foolish to re-enter. He was completely unsure of where to go, and admittedly, until that very morning, increasingly fearful of his own demise due to such foolishness.

__

He supposed…..letting the swordsman lead him, at least to civilization, where he could regroup, would be the smartest decision for now.

__

Still, it didn’t stop his pride from suffering a blow when he muttered a sulky, “Lead the way…”

__

He ignored the amused smirk that tugged up the swordsman’s lips.

__

* * *

__

Sangoro had never visited Wano’s capital, forbidden by his father, only allowed to attend a few trips to its surrounding territories when he was a young child, unlike his siblings, who’d accompanied his parents often. Still, that was before things had changed, when their family still traveled beyond his homeland’s borders…

__

His mother had always assured him that Hakumai, with its coastal towns, was more beautiful, or Ringo and its snow-blanketed mountains. The Flower Capital, landlocked as it was, would surely bore and disappoint him.

__

And yet, in Sangoro’s heart, he’d always known she’d told him such things to quell his sadness, his upset about being kept away from the public eye.

__

Thus, when he and Zoro crested the small hill of the clearing, unveiling the sprawling valley below, Sangoro felt his shoulders slump, the prickling of unexpected sorrow behind his eyes as he gazed at what had ultimately been his mother’s lie.

__

Below them lay a breathtaking sight, perhaps the most magnificent Sangoro had ever laid eyes on.

__

A colorful blanket of distant rooftops broke through the surrounding greenery, glistening like an iridescent ocean under the rising sun. Amongst the buildings, smaller peaks and cliffs jutted up in dramatic formations, some bubbling over with towering waterfalls, thundering veils that branched into a spiderweb of canals below.

__

And there, in the center of the city, stood the largest formation, a colossal tree that soared above the valley, curled, as if it were really the tail of a massive dragon that slumbered underground. That ‘tail’ harbored, in the plateau of its curve, what was surely the royal palace itself, lyrical and proud where it rose in its scalloped tiers above the land.

__

His own home, with its flat, barren landscape, void of color or splendor of any kind as far as Sangoro was concerned, was nothing compared to what stretched before him, scenery beyond his wildest dreams.

__

It seemed the mountainous border between their countries had been concealing this all along.

__

It was indescribably beautiful, enough so that the telltale burning of his eyes persisted, the blond finding himself wishing desperately for his mother, despite knowing it was impossible.

__

How many times had he sat with her, reading, imagining, _wondering_ if he’d ever see the world? Her fingers in his hair, kisses to his temple, had been comforting, but not always reassuring.

__

And yet, here he stood, at long last.

__

“I take it you’ve never seen the Capital before.”

__

With unexpected and not necessarily welcome company.

__

Suddenly, Sangoro felt a bout of shitty self-consciousness flare up, a defensive response threatening to kick in by instinct, and he wasn’t sure why when Zoro’s remark hadn’t been anything to feel defensive about. But he had to force himself to shrug nonchalantly instead, glad no tears had made it to his eyes to further embarrass him.

__

“Heard about it,” he replied casually, dulling his gaze to one of disinterest, with minimal success, surely. “It’s pretty much what I expected.”

__

Beside him, Zoro nodded sagely, coming up beside the blond and taking the moment to absorb the scene himself.

__

A quiet minute passed, then the swordsman said, “Bet Germa’s ugly as hell, huh,” before he set off along the more well-trodden grass where a dirt path became visible down the hill.

__

Sangoro sighed, watching him go for a few paces until he hoisted up the strap of his arrow quiver and started walking again too.

__

“Well, it’s certainly---”

__

But then, the blond caught himself, eyes widening as a jolt of panic shot through him.

__

_“What?!”_ he screeched, interrupting himself. “Who says I’m from Germa?”

__

Infuriatingly, Zoro merely glanced back over his shoulder, the mosshead’s face and tone ripe with condescension.

__

“Blue eyes? Blindingly pale? Germa,” Zoro replied, giving the blond a patronizing once-over before turning away to focus on the path ahead once more. “Besides, your weird outfit’s a dead giveaway.”

__

Sangoro let out an indignant scoff, glancing down at himself and finding his tunic and breeches to be, if not the _cleanest_ garments in the world right now, still perfectly fashionable. At the very least, his cobalt cloak covered the dirt.

__

For a moment, he contemplated running right back into those woods rather than following the slap of the rude samurai’s sandals and the swish of his moldy robe any longer.

__

But when Zoro turned to look back at him almost expectantly, the blond found he could do little else but roll his eyes and stomp after him.

__

“Wow, would you like me to stereotype you too, asshole?” he muttered, speeding past the other man and shouldering him roughly for good measure as he did.

__

Still, Zoro merely lengthened his stride to catch up easily, and no, Sangoro did not miss the fact that he’d taken to staring _yet again,_ as if it was socially acceptable in his kingdom.

__

“Not a stereotype. Just an observation,” Zoro replied, gaze lingering just above the blond’s narrowed eye at the faint curl that twisted his irritated eyebrow. “Warning you now, people are gonna stare.”

__

“As if you’re not doing that right now!” Sangoro yelped, hastily side-stepping in front of the swordsman in order to walk on his opposite side, letting the heavy part of his hair obscure the better part of his face from view.

__

“This is quite a fine welcome to your wonderful country, _mosshead,”_ he grumbled, boots twisting in the dirt angrily as they reached a tight turn in the path, which doubled back on itself as it continued down a steeper part of the slope. “Tell me, do you always represent your people so well to foreigners?”

__

“Foreigners aren’t allowed.”

__

Sangoro’s steps screeched to a halt, the blond nearly toppling over in his haste to whirl around and face the swordsman, who remained a few paces up the hill, grinning down with a devilish flash of teeth, thumb casually pushing the golden handguard of one sword a few inches from its saya.

__

The blond paled.

__

“What…?!” he retorted for a second time, feeling his stomach clench uncomfortably when the man didn’t break the act, merely kept up that almost predatory look. “B-But that can’t be true!” he stammered, wracking his brain for any difficulty his family could have had traveling to and from Wano. “My parents have---!”

__

But then, Zoro snickered, looking genuinely amused for the first time, and he set off walking again, leaning in close to assure, “I’m kidding,” near Sangoro’s ear before he passed. “You seriously looked ready to shit yourself.”

__

A loud groan from the blond, who didn’t hesitate to follow the swordsman this time, despite his annoyance, and it didn’t seem Zoro was looking to lose him either by the way he slowed his steps until the disgruntled blond was beside him once more.

__

“You’re hilarious, and that’s not a compliment!” Sangoro muttered, deadpan, sticking out a foot to kick the swordsman in the bare ankle when the man still looked downright pleased with himself.

__

Oddly, Zoro’s mood seemed to be lifting the longer the conversation continued, the mosshead not very good at hiding the little smirk of enjoyment that had begun to pull his features out of their low-browed scowl of earlier into an expression much more pleasant, certainly more youthful at the very least.

__

It rather irritated the blond further to think that Zoro’s change in demeanor was a direct result of his own annoyance. He was used to this, after all, used to merciless teasing and the sniggers and sneers it brought.

__

And yet...Zoro’s smug look had morphed into something a little more soft, and when Sangoro met his eye again, there was a spark of challenge there, yes, but hardly malicious intent, something the blond realized was both puzzling….and a bit charming…. Certainly nothing he’d ever experienced before in his life, most of his positive interactions coming from those who pitied him, or were obligated to care for him.

__

This was something else though, something new, and it was why he found himself tilting his head so he could land his gaze, both suspicious and curious, on the swordsman, despite his earlier attempts to hide it.

__

“Doesn’t mean we get many though.”

__

Zoro spoke, and for a moment, Sangoro had forgotten the conversation topic, in favor of wondering the meaning behind those three golden earrings that dripped from the mosshead’s ear. 

__

“Hm?” he shot back, bringing his gaze back to some clarity.

__

“Foreigners,” Zoro explained with a quirk of his brow. “Not since the royal family was murdered. People are still scared.... You’re the first I’ve ever talked to.” His lips turned up again when he added, “I mean it---you’re gonna get looks.”

__

“Well, I won’t be staying long,” the blond quickly replied, considering the other man seemed so hung up on these looks he may or may not be getting. So long as no one made a fuss about who he was or where he’d come from, he could tolerate it. “I just need to regroup…” he explained. “Gather some supplies. Then I’ll be on my way.”

__

“To where?” Zoro snorted. “You’ve hit the edge of the continent, genius.”

__

He wasn’t wrong. Sangoro was perfectly aware of their geographic location, and though he’d never been much to care before, it became all too important now that he was looking to put Germa far behind him. Wano was a coastal country, unforgiving mountains locking Germa to the north.

__

It was surely the sea that now called him, something the blond had always been fascinated by, that endless blue like a siren, though he’d never laid eyes upon it himself.

__

Sitting with his mother for hours, hearing her gentle voice relay tales of her youth….. Those had been enough to transport and transfix him.

__

“Don’t you have boats?” the blond asked. Wano was a rather isolationist country, he knew from his studies, but surely they made use of their neighboring waters. “Are there no merchants that come to---?”

__

“Sail and you’re entering Kaido’s domain,” Zoro interrupted, and Sangoro found himself surprised to see the smirk fall from Zoro’s lips, his expression darkening in a way that actually sent a chill down his spine, all light vanishing from the conversation in one fell swoop.

__

Still, Zoro found the gall to snidely add, “And considering you couldn’t even survive in the wilderness...”

__

Sangoro scoffed, replying, “Am I not alive right now?”, though it was half-hearted.

__

Kaido’s domain…

__

Yes, the pirate warlord’s influence was well-known, even in Germa, where the only bodies of water were the few rivers that flowed down from the mountains. They petered out before reaching the inhabited plains, as if even they found the country undesirable…

__

But Kaido’s name was rather infamous, particularly after his crew of Beast Pirates, as they were rather fearfully named, had attacked Wano’s capital in the past, murdering three-fourths of their royal family and most of their defense force, leaving only their young princess, who had sought asylum in Germa for a time until the chaos died down.

__

“And the northeastern mountains? Goa?” Sangoro tried, naming the kingdom that had, admittedly, not been high on his list of escape routes. Goa’s monarchy was nearly as corrupt as Germa’s own.

__

“The monster you met roams that border as well. And I doubt the welcome you’d get on the other side would be half as fine as this one,” Zoro replied, smirking as if he merely spoke of a bit of rain hampering his plans and not the torrential downpour that would surely await.

__

Sangoro let out a scoff again, one fueled by far more frustration than annoyance now. The longer he stayed in one place, the more of a liability he was, not only to himself, but to the very country of Wano. He couldn’t afford to linger.

__

“I’m surprised no one has challenged Kaido yet…” he muttered, at a loss for anything else to say or do, considering his initial plans were now properly thwarted.

__

His eyes met Zoro’s for a split second when the swordsman shot him a glance, a flash of darkness coming over his expression, though he could have imagined it.

__

“Trust me, there are those who want to,” muttered the swordsman. “Myself included. But right now, we need to strengthen our forces. Focus on domestic issues. Least, that’s what the Empress says.”

__

Zoro trailed off, sounding less than convinced by that argument, and the blond noticed his fingers unconsciously twisting over the hilt of the white sword he’d been fidgeting with earlier.

__

“Domestic issues….” Sangoro repeated, watching those callused fingers for a moment. “Like the murderous beasts taking over your forests.”

__

As soon as he’d said that, the swordsman’s glare locked onto his once more, this time with barely masked frustration of his own.

__

“You telling me Germa doesn’t have its problems?” Zoro snapped. “Thought your royal family was off doing their own murderous shit…to their own citizens.”

__

Sangoro’s gut twisted uncomfortably, guilt, that shouldn’t have been his own, rearing its head, uglier than any monster he could encounter in real life.

__

“Why do you think I wanted out…” was all he could say.

__

He averted his gaze and trained it on the path ahead, the one taking him away from that life, one that neared the bottom of the slope now where the ground flattened out, crossed another short field where the first farmhouses waited amidst bundles of conifer trees.

__

Zoro had gone quiet too, though the blond could still feel his gaze for long enough to make him squirm, as if that predatory glower sought the well-deserved vengeance of all those who had suffered in his country. Or perhaps that was in Sangoro’s own imagination.

__

He needed the focus off him, needed it back on what lay ahead, not the bodies and pain that lay behind them.

__

“How is she?” he heard himself asking before he was fully aware, because his eyes had fallen on that magnificent castle in the distance, a flutter of nerves filling his chest for an entirely different reason. “Your Empress, I mean… Losing her family back then must have been devastating…”

__

Surely it must have, the pain of his own recent loss still raw in his heart. He couldn’t foresee that sting ever truly going away.

__

“Yeah,” Zoro’s voice rumbled slowly beside him. “But that was….what, thirteen years ago now? Why do you care?”

__

Sangoro shot a glare at him, unsurprised to find the swordsman’s eyes narrowed warily as well.

__

“Human compassion,” he justified, because it clearly wasn’t obvious to his dim-witted companion, nor was it necessary to hint at the memories that were still quite vivid in his mind….memories of a young girl’s lonely tears in the night...

__

But as soon as Zoro replied, “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”, the blond once again lost the will to argue, a brief flare of panic assaulting him.

__

“Forget I said anything…” he muttered, and fell silent again, fingernails digging into the strap of his arrow quiver for lack of anything else to fidget with.

__

Sangoro found himself grateful when Zoro said nothing else, hoping that the newfound tension in the air dispelled any desire of the swordsman to continue the conversation.

__

Sangoro had come for a fresh start. He wanted the city before him to hold nothing but new prospects, never returning to what was over and done with, as far as he was concerned. To what he _couldn’t_ go back to.

__

He no longer wanted to be plagued, neither physically nor mentally, by what he’d left behind.

__

* * *

__

So they made their way along the rocky path in silence, pebbles and dirt slowly smoothing out beneath their feet the closer they got to civilization. Saturated squares of green rice fields were bisected more and more by modest chestnut houses and barns, those steepled thatch roofs and wooden frames soon changing to shining waves of tiles and crisply painted facades.

__

Slowly but surely, color burst around them into the rainbow of rooftops and cherry blossom trees they had seen from above the valley, the hustle and bustle of carriages and pedestrians alike turning the secluded dusty path into a busy road that led into the heart of the capital.

__

Market stalls and carts lined the way, the high-pitched nasally keen of shopkeepers hawking their wares ringing in the air and the temptation of cooking meat drifting amongst the crowds. Doors, that looked paper thin, slid open easily, the flow of traffic spilling in and out of the surrounding buildings, some houses, some shops, all with rows of sandals lined up in the entranceways.

__

It was just as exciting, just as beautiful as it looked from above, made more so by the people, dressed in similar robes to Zoro’s, each unique with all manner of designs and palettes, geometric patterns on men, women adorned with flowers and layers of overlapping silk that seemed to float as they moved through the streets.

__

Despite the activity in all directions as they walked, the street felt small, almost miniature, far more compact than anything the blond was used to in Germa, where identical houses rose in narrow spires, separate from one another, standing like stoic soldiers, cold and unwelcoming.

__

Here, there was a proper community, _life_ present everywhere, from the architecture--that spoke of both tradition and a foreign mythology--certainly to the people, whose vibrant chatter and laughter filled the air.

__

And yet, as soon as the first pair of eyes locked onto the blond and his companion, that chatter stopped.

__

The air went frigid, a hush falling over the crowd in a ripple effect until the entire surrounding block had lost all its cheer in one fell swoop.

__

It was such a shock, to see hundreds of gazes fall on them silently, _suddenly,_ that Sangoro actually stopped short, staggering back a step as if every single person before him had morphed into a feral beast to rival his encounter in the night.

__

Zoro had warned they would stare, hadn’t he, but this was something else, something cold and something disdainful, Sangoro felt, as the swordsman nudged him forward, seemingly unperturbed.

__

Slowly, they began walking again, the blond’s gaze flitting self-consciously left and right, letting Zoro take the lead down the street as if nothing was amiss, the crowds parting for him easily, people, young and old, quickly sidestepping out of his way. Out of fear? Intimidation? The blond wasn’t sure.

__

Sangoro could feel eyes landing on him for brief moments of time, but the farther they walked, the more he sensed something particular, when he noticed lips curling up in contempt as they passed, heard quiet murmurs, and saw judgment in so many gazes that were not trained on him, but rather….

____

Yes, he was sure of it. It was _Zoro_ they were staring at, _Zoro_ the people seemed so disgusted by, and there was no doubt about it when those whispers reached his ear, sending a chill down his spine as if they were the sneers and jibes of his brothers come back to haunt him.

____

_“The disrespect….displaying his Seal so brazenly…”_

____

...

____

_“I can’t believe the Empress lets him wander freely…”_

____

_..._

__

_“....Useless….still hasn’t killed the creature…”_

__

...

__

_“You know, I’m starting to think he’s actually---”_

__

Sangoro squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, shook his head, and strode to catch up with Zoro, having fallen behind several paces.

__

He couldn’t listen to this. The criticism was not even directed at him, and yet he felt the words and the stares squeezing at his heart and his mind as if the hordes of people themselves were closing in to crush him.

__

He found himself speeding up, unable to take the pressure, the sound of Zoro’s slapping sandals echoing in his ears like a cracking whip.

__

_“Oi!”_ he hissed in Zoro’s ear, hoping to hurry the swordsman’s leisurely pace along before it drove him completely insane. _“Why are they looking at you like that?!”_

__

With overbearing disdain, even menace, in their eyes...

__

To his surprise, Zoro didn’t answer, just kept walking, his features blank, as if he hadn’t even heard the blond’s question.

__

But Sangoro noticed the tension in his jaw that traveled down his neck and arm, down to the fist that had slowly begun to clench at his side, fingers squeezing themselves tightly.

__

Still no answer.

__

The blond huffed, eyes flicking nervously to the eerie crowd.

__

He nudged Zoro’s arm, leaned in more persistently.

__

_“Hello? I asked you a ques--”_

__

“They’re staring at _you!_ I _told_ you they would!” Zoro growled back suddenly, with enough irritation to make the blond jump, particularly when teeth bared and the tone of the swordsman’s voice tilted dangerously towards a bitter anger yet unseen.

__

“It’s _you,_ not me! _You’re_ the strange one here!” Zoro insisted when the blond merely looked shocked, staring as if the swordsman had grown another head of moss.

__

Taken aback, Sangoro felt his stomach clench uncomfortably, _knowing_ he wasn’t crazy. He’d heard those murmurs, knew all too well when unwanted attention was directed at him, so dammit, what the hell was the swordsman going on about?

__

He knew it wasn’t him. But that look in Zoro’s eye, the heave of his chest, control slipping from him despite his passiveness of but a minute before...

__

Sangoro had clearly struck a nerve. And he no longer wanted to stick around to prod at another, not when Zoro’s mood had turned deadly serious so suddenly.

__

He needed space, free from the horrible underside of human nature that always seemed to surface around him. He’d left Germa to _escape_ that, not dive full-force back into it.

__

His arms were reaching out of their own accord, shoving the swordsman aside, and then his boots were pounding in the dirt, pushing through the edge of the crowd, ignoring Zoro’s sudden call of, “Oi!” to put as much distance between them as he could.

__

Equally confused and shocked faces whizzed past him, a blurry kaleidoscope. His breaths panted harshly, and his heart now thundered in his chest, but at least it drowned out the whispers. At least he couldn’t hear the taunting calls of his name that crawled from his memory, told him he was pathetic for running, that he was nothing but a coward for leaving everything behind.

__

His legs propelled him into a narrow alley, barely wide enough to pass through, but he managed, jumping over some discarded wood and dodging a bundle of tall brooms propped against a wall before he burst out onto the opposite street.

__

Thankfully, it was far less crowded, lacking the market stalls and constant passing of traffic….the hundreds of eyes that had suddenly made the main road unbearable.

__

So he took off again, not knowing where he was going, but following the curve of this new dusty road until the packed-down dirt turned to large slabs of stone beneath his feet.

__

Then, the rows of buildings stopped suddenly, and he found himself at the foot of a bridge, a wide one that curved up in a gently arching hill, its thick wooden rails painted an almost blindingly brilliant vermilion.

__

The bridge spanned the length of what looked to be a moat, though what lay on the other side was entirely obscured by great stone walls that rose far above the blond’s head. Beyond them, he could just make out the lush green tufts of vegetation, and the massive form of the palace tree in the distance beyond.

__

Still panting, Sangoro glanced behind him, then to either side, finding he was alone on the water’s edge with an empty path before him.

__

And again, his feet moved before his mind, pace still quick, but no longer sprinting as he had been, the sudden shift in atmosphere having him slow even further when he passed through the opening in those walls and entered the interior.

__

To his surprise, what he found was a vast garden, but none like he’d ever seen before.

__

Paths of fine pebbles branched their way through soft lawns of moss, patches of flowers exploding from the ground in colorful bursts, as well as from veil-like trees, whose long, thin branches skimmed the paths and left a carpet of pink where their petals had fallen.

__

A large central pond lay tranquil, other odd trees stationed around it, each small, their branches stacked in wide layers as if physically flattened. Joining them stood peculiar stone sculptures, like tiny lantern pagodas, their feet firmly planted on the rocks that rested dormant in the calm water.

__

These were nothing like the palace gardens in Germa, which bore only worship to the king, their maze-like hedges filled with grandiose statues whose blank gazes followed eerily at every turn.

__

This was entirely different, the blond thought, now moving, almost trance-like, his heartbeat and breaths calming as he wandered over miniature footbridges that spanned trickling brooks, noticed yet more statues of meditative figures, their eyes closed as if asleep, dusted with moss and lichens as if they’d sat that way, undisturbed, for thousands of years.

__

He lost track of time, walking there, amongst the well-groomed foliage. It could have been minutes or hours. It was utter peace, these surroundings, the likes of which he hadn’t felt since his mother was in good health, the warm breeze through the trees just as comforting as her embrace.

__

It sucked all the terrible voices and whispers from his mind and left him wondering if maybe, just maybe, staying here wouldn’t be a---

__

“Hey, mister, you sleeping like that?”

__

His eyes shot open (when had he closed them?), heart jolting a bit before he located the source of the surprising voice.

__

Standing on the path ahead, stood a young girl, her red robe standing out amongst the greenery, her dark eyes wide and round as they stared at him.

__

He blinked, taking in her short bob of pink hair that matched the enormous bundle of flowers in her arms, the toothy grin that spread over her lips as she took in what must have been his bewildered expression.

__

“Uh….my apologies,” he stammered hastily, giving a small apologetic bow. “Just...taking in the scenery.”

__

The girl giggled again, though he’d not said anything remotely amusing, and took a few steps closer, several stray petals falling from her grasp. Her owlish eyes flitted over his form.

__

“You don’t look like you’re from here. Are ya lost?” she chirped, and when he found he couldn’t reply right away, her brow furrowed a little, despite the grin not leaving her face.

__

_“Maybe he’s sick,”_ the girl muttered to herself, her head tilting curiously before she raised her voice again. “Are ya lookin’ for the palace? We’re real close---I’m goin’ back too! I can take ya there if ya---”

__

“What?” he yelped suddenly, knowing that was the last place he wanted to go. “No, no, why would I be? I---the market! If you could just point me in that direction, I’ll be on my way.”

__

“Oh,” the girl replied, her smile falling but not disappearing entirely. “Just wondered, ‘cause you’re lookin’ a little pale, an’ the Empress knows the best herbal remedies, y’know. She’d have you feelin’ a-okay real qui---!”

__

“I’m not in need of herbal remedies!” he assured. Then, with a huff, he turned quickly to head back towards the direction he’d come.

__

Only to collide with a body that leaped down from the tree above him, swift and silent, landing, surprisingly nimble despite his hulking size, on his two feet, green robe flowing out behind him.

__

“Nice one, Toko. You found him,” rumbled an irritating, familiar voice, causing Sangoro to lurch back from the broad chest he’d all but run, face-first, into.

__

“Huh? Found who?” asked the girl behind him, and when the blond shot a glance back at her over his shoulder, he saw her eyes and grin had begun to grow impossibly, on their way to engulf her whole face it seemed, when she exclaimed, “Wow, did I just help you with a mission?”

__

“Sure did,” Zoro said with a casual chuckle, and Sangoro began to find himself rather unsettled, trapped between two grins who clearly saw far more humor in the situation than he did.

__

How the _fuck_ had the swordsman tracked him? And how had he managed to be that damn stealthy?

__

“I---What the--were you hiding in a _tree?_ How long were you there?!” the blond squawked, for lack of anything better to ask, gut twisting uncomfortably at the odd, cunning look that was beginning to sharpen Zoro’s features. He hadn’t looked like that before.

__

“Why did you run?” Zoro asked smoothly, ignoring the blond’s questions. He tilted his head slowly, his gaze traveling up and down the blond’s form in a way that was far more calculating than anything he’d shown yet.

__

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Sangoro snapped, and there was the feeling that he was cornered again, ever cornered by unexpected monsters.

__

“I don’t think he’s from here, Zoro!” the girl, Toko, piped up behind him, though Sangoro kept his wary gaze firmly on the swordsman.

__

Zoro shook his head, his eyes alight with _something_ that leaned toward danger, as they had been before when he’d teased, but it was different, for that glint wasn’t going away, and it was enough to make Sangoro question his earlier assessment of the samurai’s skills....

__

“You’re right; he’s not,” Zoro’s voice purred in response. “He was lost in the mountains for days and he needs to rest.”

__

“I said I’d take him to the Empress!” Toko replied.

__

Again? Must everyone _insist_ he be taken to the palace?

__

“No, no, that’s not necessary,” Sangoro interrupted quickly, hands waving frantically and feet already shuffling in the fine stone path with the intention of sidestepping the swordsman and getting the hell out of there. “I appreciate the _concern,_ but I’m fine. I need only stock up on supplies before I--”

__

Zoro rolled his eyes, jerked his head towards the girl with an unamused look.

__

“He’s said that about fifty times now…” he muttered.

__

And before the blond could even voice the retort building within him, the swordsman’s hand had clamped down onto his arm in a vicegrip, fingers like claws as they yanked him in close.

__

“Hey, let go of me!” the blond yelped, stumbling as his heart suddenly leapt to his throat in fear. “What the hell are you---?”

__

“I really hoped you wouldn’t make this difficult, _Your Highness.”_

__

Zoro’s low snickering close to his ear. The harsh sting of his arm when the swordsman wrenched it behind his back.

__

Then, the sharp ringing of metal, and the cold edge of a blade hovering over his throat.

__

* * *

__

The blond’s knees cracked painfully on the tiled floor as the swordsman shoved him down roughly, still with a sword to his throat and his grip fiercely twisting at both the blond’s wrists behind his back now.

__

He could barely make sense of his new surroundings through the fog of sheer panic that now clouded his world, nothing but the ever-encroaching immensity of the palace above staying in his mind, followed by a blur of unfamiliar staircases, doors, and rooms leading him to this point. Not to mention his own completely futile attempts to pull himself free.

__

“Oi, Hiyori.”

__

The swordsman’s voice had lost all charm the blond had so foolishly believed it to have, even for the most fleeting of moments. Now it held the same empty malice of his brothers and his father….surely.

__

Shapes moving ahead of him in the vast room, indistinguishable through the curtain of disheveled hair obscuring half of the blond’s face, though he dared not lift his head for fear that blade would finally tear into his skin.

__

A gruff, scolding male voice.

__

“Swordsman! The Empress must be referred to as _‘Empress’_ \---‘Empress Hiyori’ at the _most_ casual! Though to you, ‘Your Majesty’ would be most appro---”

__

“Kawamatsu, it’s alright,” a light-hearted female chimed in, only to receive an irritated grunt from Zoro, whose looming presence seemed to overtake all of the blond’s senses in that moment, from the feel of his skin to the press of his blade.

__

“We’d better send a messenger out to Germa, woman,” Zoro said. “I caught their missing prince. As you requested.”

__

The blond’s stomach dropped.


	2. ACT I: Sunset - PART II

✨🌗✨

Silence in the room. Nothing but the chill of his own blood pumping faster, harder, causing his head to throb and his mind to spin back into that horrible panic he was beginning to doubt would ever leave him.

Zoro _knew_ who he was, had known all along, and there it was, the piercing feeling of eyes boring into him, even worse than in the marketplace because now those eyes were definitely on him.

He should have known. He should have known word would spread, that his father would send out a notice, that his father was perhaps here, in Wano, waiting for him. And not to welcome him back with open arms.

He should have known escape was impossible. And why? His father didn’t want him, would never want him, so why couldn’t he just be free?

He couldn’t move, couldn’t defend himself, couldn’t even look up, could only kneel there, helpless, at the mercy of that blade and the mercy of a girl—no, a woman now—that he’d never imagined he’d see again. Certainly not like this.

The blond knelt there, heavy breaths leaving him, gaze, wide and unfocused, staring blankly at the swirling patterns of jade and gold that swept over the floor tiles beneath him with dizzying design.

He couldn’t even be angry, not at anyone or anything but his own foolishness, for thinking that maybe, just maybe, he’d had a chance beyond his kingdom’s borders.

The sound of clicking on the tile, echoing throughout the space, which he soon realized was a pair of shoes when they came into his field of vision, strange wooden sandals that clicked faster until they stopped directly in front of him, submerged in a pool of silky pink fabric when their owner sank to his level.

Hands, soft and slender, rose to his face, and though their touch was gentle, he still flinched instinctively when fingers met his jaw and brushed hair from his eyes. Those fingers lifted his chin carefully until he found himself staring at a young woman, long waves of teal hair tumbling over her shoulders, her features delicate and sympathetic, wrought with concern.

She looked even more beautiful than he remembered, even if thirteen years had passed since their last meeting, and the woman that crouched before him now was a stranger.

Yet her voice was quiet, almost hopeful, when she murmured, “Sanji…?”

His name. His _real_ name, and the flash of emotion in his eyes was surely what had her red-painted lips turn up in what looked like relief.

“It really was you,” she breathed.

Sanji barely had time to relay his shock, a flustered utterance of, “E-Empress—” before arms flung themselves over his shoulders and he found himself yanked into a tight, joyful embrace.

“I can’t believe it!” she exclaimed close to his ear, the scent of her hair like fresh cherry blossoms, overwhelming at such close proximity. “You’re alive! Sanji, do you remember me? You were so small, but—”

Just as soon as she’d leapt for him, the empress pulled back, holding Sanji at arm’s length to gaze at him for an elated moment.

“Zoro, let go of him,” she said distractedly, and though Sanji couldn’t see his face, he could sense the swordsman’s confusion when the grip he had on Sanji’s wrists loosened slowly, almost reluctantly, before releasing him entirely.

Sanji supposed he hardly looked any less baffled by the situation.

The empress giggled, her hands unsure of where to land, fingers meeting his cheek, then his shoulders again, his chest, before they settled on his waist. And he had no choice but to allow it when she dove in for another affectionate hug, this one for longer.

Despite her delight, not to mention her beauty, Sanji couldn’t lift his arms, couldn’t hold her back, even if he no longer sensed any threat but rather the genuine joy of an old friend.

“Look at you,” the empress said when she sat back again, giving a playful squeeze to his biceps, her bright eyes traveling over his form. “You’re a man now.” Another giggle and she leaned closer, lips flirtatiously smug as they pulled up in a smirk. “You probably enjoyed that hug, didn’t you~”

“I-I—” he stammered once again, having lost any sense of eloquence he should have possessed, his cheeks growing unbearably hot, gaze unable to meet hers.

Mercifully, the swordsman’s gruff voice sounded from somewhere behind him, the man’s irritation clear.

“He was out near the base of Fuji,” Zoro grumbled. “No food. No supplies. Nearly got himself killed.”

But any insult he might have intended was quickly squashed when the empress’ eyes flicked back to Sanji, a question quickly tumbling out.

“What were you doing there?” she asked, her grasp having settled on Sanji’s forearms. “We were sent wanted posters! I thought you’d been kidnapped!”

Sanji resisted the urge to scoff, pushed it right back down along with his own forming question, the part of him that didn’t understand why she cared, why she seemed so concerned after all these years. Even if they’d bonded as children, how could anyone care about what he’d become?

If he’d been kidnapped….well, at least that would have meant he had _some_ worth. But that wasn’t the case.

Thus, a sense of embarrassment, of shame, rose within him, replaced any happiness he might have felt over their reunion.

A hissed sigh, and he averted his gaze to the floor once more, staring hard at the patterns there as if they would direct his words. With Zoro, a stranger, it had been easy. With her, not so...

“Empress. Please,” he murmured slowly, heart in his throat. “I ask...that you not alert my father as to my whereabouts. I-I left there, with the intention of never returning. I _cannot_ go back. Not as I am.”

The blond lifted his head guiltily, risked a glance at the empress’ face. Though her grip on his arms remained, her brow had furrowed slightly with concern.

He took a shaky breath, swallowed hard, before continuing.

“I will not stay here long,” he assured. “I will gather what I need for my journey and be on my way. The last thing I want to do is endanger your kingdom if my father comes searching for me. I will leave….”

Sanji’s words were met with silence for a long moment, the empress looking torn, and Sanji thought he knew why when a man stepped into his line of sight, his body stout, but massively thick with compact strength. A burst of long fiery orange hair exploded from beneath a pointed straw hat he wore on his head, a red scarf covering much of his face, save for a pair of dark eyes and a small beak of a nose.

Sanji’s brows rose for a moment, recognizing, if vaguely, this man. The empress’ retainer, wasn’t he? Sanji remembered, as a boy, being rather frightened of the odd, hulking man who’d eventually come to retrieve the princess from Germa. He was….Kawamatsu? The empress had used the name just a minute ago….

Name aside though, one thing remained. The blond could admit to the small feelings of dislike he’d harbored as a child, watching this man usher away the only friend he’d ever made...

And Sanji could sense an overbearing protectiveness when the man spoke, moving closer to the empress.

There was hardly an indication of Kawamatsu’s expression when he stated, “Kaido controls the surrounding sea.”

It was the same warning Zoro had given. Sanji sighed, nearly turning to shoot a glance at Zoro before thinking against it. He didn’t know the swordsman’s true intentions anymore.

“So I’ve been told…” the blond muttered, wishing _someone_ would give him a solution instead of reiterating the truth that continued to trap him.

“And you can’t pass through the mountains to Goa now either,” the man added sternly. “A strange beast roams the forests. Until it has been vanquished—”

“Then let me vanquish it!” Sanji huffed out impulsively, his frustration and desperation beating its way to the forefront, despite the presence of the empress.

“You…?” Kawamatsu replied slowly, skepticism clear. “Forgive me, Prince, but even our samurai have yet to be successful.”

“Yes, I’ve seen proof of that,” Sanji said, unsure if he should mention his encounter in the mountains, ultimately deciding against it in case he found his head lopped off from behind.

A soft disgruntled noise left Kawamatsu in response, muffled by the scarf covering his mouth, and Sanji noticed his narrowed eyes had settled behind him, on Zoro, the blond confirmed with a subtle turn of his head.

For the first time since tumbling into the room, the blond took in the swordsman’s stance, Zoro’s arms crossed tightly over his chest, and his jaw twitching slightly as he clenched it.

Zoro’s discomfort was clear, his own gaze fixated resolutely on the walls, which Sanji now saw were adorned with the bold lines of ink paintings on long hanging scrolls, many depicting the contorted forms of horrible-looking beasts. Others showed figures clearly ready to combat them, robes flowing and swords drawn in lyrical arcs of movement, brushstrokes almost animating the action within.

They were rather beautiful, transfixing, though something about them seemed to unsettle the swordsman, as he ultimately lowered his tumultuous expression to the floor.

“Stay with us, friend. Here, in the Scabbards’ Compound.”

The empress’ voice nearly startled Sanji, particularly when her fingers gripped his arms a little tighter, and he reluctantly ceased his deciphering of the swordsman’s face.

“Until Zoro has defeated it,” the empress continued when Sanji met her eye again. “If you cannot return to Germa, then we will protect you here. And we will not breathe a word of your presence.”

Immediately, however, Kawamatsu let out another displeased sound, his head shaking with almost automatic disagreement.

“Empress, please reconsider,” he advised, the adamance in his tone far stronger than his words. “You know how the Germa royalty are—”

“He’s not like them,” the empress replied, her blue eyes kind and honest, as if they saw through to something Sanji could no longer see.

Still, Kawamatsu insisted.

“It’s been years, Empress,” he huffed. “We cannot continue to put blind trust in those that might bring harm to—”

“That’s enough!”

The sudden and sharp exasperation in the empress’ tone caused Sanji’s heart to jolt in his chest, a seriousness coming over her features when she whipped her head to frown up at her retainer.

An unexpected tension rippled through the air, and it heightened the blond’s nerves enough that he knew he had to dispel it somehow.

“If I help defeat the beast, then I can leave sooner,” Sanji cut in quickly, his words falling out faster than his common sense could edit. “Consider it my payment for your generosity.”

Surprisingly, silence followed his statement for a long moment, along with the judgment of Kawamatsu’s stare yet again.

“Payment…” the man murmured quietly, almost mulling the word over by the sound of it, and when Sanji risked a glance, he saw that he had once again let his contemptuous gaze drift to Zoro for reasons unknown.

“So he’s staying?!”

A shriek interrupted the strange atmosphere, and Sanji looked up to see the little girl, Toko, previously unnoticed, now looking their way from across the room, where the floor lifted in a raised platform and she knelt in front of a low table, arranging the pink-hued flowers and small branches she’d gathered in a decorative vase.

In fact, there were many flowers, he noticed, the blond finally taking proper stock of his surroundings, a long room with low ceilings, the walls and ceiling a grid of wooden supports framing those beastly paintings. It was an audience hall by the looks of it, with minimalistic opulence, a gold accent here and there, no furniture but that table, surrounded in a semi-circle by ten cushions placed on the floor.

It felt small, with its lack of windows, and it made the blond feel all the more nervous for that reason...

“Yes~” Hiyori answered, her lips turning up and her voice returning to its cheerful tone. Her hands released Sanji’s arms gently then, and she rose to her feet, the full splendor of her intricate robe on display right before Sanji’s eyes.

She turned to Kawamatsu and said with finality, “I’d like to speak with him. Privately.”

Though the man stood defiantly taller than her, it only took a few moments before he let out a heavy sigh and seemed to bow under her authority.

“You have Enma,” he muttered quietly, Sanji following the gesture of the man’s large hand to notice, almost hidden amongst the folds and waves of the empress’ robe, the long ivory sheath of a sword tied to her waist by a sash.

Her delicate fingers brushed the hilt for a brief moment before she assured, “I won’t be needing it.”

Her lips curved up a little more, her palm extending towards the swordsman behind Sanji.

“Anyway, Zoro is here. All will be fine~”

But Kawamatsu’s response was fast and sharp as the blade he’d just indicated.

“No,” he growled, jerking his head at the swordsman. _“You_ are dismissed.”

Sanji’s mouth felt dry, witnessing, for the second time since he’d arrived, the utter disdain for the swordsman that he’d experienced in the marketplace. It was disturbing, and though he was still unsure of the reason, he couldn’t help the twinge of sympathy he felt, despite knowing nothing of the circumstances, particularly when the swordsman quickly turned away without so much as another word. His dark eyes merely met Sanji’s for a split second more before he swiftly crossed the room, slid open a door, and was gone.

Sanji stared at that closed door for perhaps longer than necessary. For all his irritation at the swordsman for his manhandling, for his blunt, unfiltered tongue... The apparent hatred for him felt….entirely misplaced.

Or perhaps he was seeing too much of his own past manifesting in the situation...

“I’ll be outside,” Kawamatsu was saying, reluctantly brushing past to follow the swordsman’s path and exit the room after him, leaving Sanji alone with the empress and Toko, still fiddling with her flower arrangements quietly.

Even if Toko was preoccupied, he sensed a troubled pang from the empress when he looked up at her, her brow now furrowed at the door, lips drawn into a small, pouting frown.

“I’m sorry…” Sanji mumbled, feeling embarrassment start to creep over him once more. “I’m causing you trouble…”

The empress’ hand met his shoulder with a reassuring touch before she offered the same hand to help him to his feet.

“You’re not,” she said when he took her hand with a closed smile and stood as well. “Please don’t mind him…”

Sanji sighed, releasing the empress’ hand, rolling his shoulders a bit to relieve some of the soreness wrought there by Zoro’s rough treatment. The damn swordsman had been far too eager to carry out his little mission.

“You look exhausted," noted the empress, her tone sympathetic. "I can show you to the guest quarters if you’d like to rest. Are you injured?”

He shook his head, forced a smile. “No. I’m fine. Though I appreciate the concern.”

Still, his eyes drifted to the door through which Zoro and Kawamatsu had disappeared, wondering how long it would be before the empress’ retainer deemed it time to intervene.

The empress hardly seemed bothered though when she said, “Let’s take the scenic route then,” with a pretty smile as she boldly looped her arm through his, drawing heat to the blond’s cheeks, no matter how innocent the gesture.

“Toko, will you join us?” the empress asked the girl, who, after a few slight movements of flower stalks, finally looked up from the table, still with a bright grin that hardly ever seemed to dim.

“Let’s go!” Toko chirped, hopping to her feet. “Y’know, he fell asleep standin’ up earlier, out in the gardens. Think he’s real tired~”

The empress chuckled.

This certainly didn’t help the heat currently assaulting the blond’s face, but he stayed quiet, merely let out a sheepish breath and shrugged to hide his embarrassment.

Maybe he could admit to a bit of fatigue.... It would certainly be nice to sleep indoors again, that was for sure.

The empress led Sanji over to the edge of the low platform, where he noticed she slipped out of the high wooden sandals she wore and stepped onto the woven straw mats with her bare feet.

Toko giggled, then slipped her hand into the empress’ free one and gave a playful tug towards the other end of the room until the empress followed with a chuckle of her own, shooting an expectant look back at Sanji.

The blond stood where he was for a long moment, slightly baffled by the foreign concept of removing his shoes, but eventually, he followed suit, though it took significantly longer to undo the many laces and buckles that fastened up his boots.

An awkward minute later, his dirty, scuffed boots slumped beside the empress’ pristine footwear on the tiles, and he stepped onto the platform in his wool hosen that would probably sully the mats anyway, in need of a good wash as they were.

Sanji felt entirely out of place as he made his way to the two, Toko having slid open another door near the corner of the room, this one made of a translucent paper that stretched taut over the frame.

But neither the girl nor the empress seemed to mind his uncertainty, Toko skipping off ahead of them, the empress sliding her arm through his once more.

They emerged into a hallway, smooth wooden floor stretching impossibly long before them. More closed doors lined the left side, but a glance to the right had Sanji’s breath catch in awe.

The right stood open to the air, revealing a beautiful courtyard, much like the garden he’d wandered into earlier, lush trees and flowers circling a pond where he saw a glimpse of some of the biggest fish he’d ever seen, orange and gold scales flickering in the sunlight as they swam slowly about.

Looming, impossibly huge beyond the buildings on the opposite side, was the towering shape of the palace tree, curtains of water spouting from the trunk itself where they thundered into a hazy mist near the base.

But despite that fantastical sight, what Sanji found most fascinating were the fine gray pebbles filling in the spaces between plants and walkways in the courtyard, pebbles that were raked carefully in mesmerizing patterns and designs, perfect circles mixed with rigidly straight lines, not a mark out of place.

He must have been staring for far too long, a strange sense of calm coming over him as he took in the swirling grooves of the garden’s designs because he heard the knowing smile in the empress’ voice when she said, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

He let out a breath and nodded.

“Yes, it is,” Sanji murmured in reply, feeling, not for the first time since arriving, that this land had the power to transport him much further than the physical distance he’d traveled.

“Kawamatsu changes the design every morning,” the empress explained. “He says it’s a form of meditation for him. I would help, but I’ve admittedly never had the patience for it.”

Sanji’s lips turned up slightly, a faint memory crawling to the forefront of his mind. Fingers digging trails in the sand. His mother’s fond smile…..

His brothers’ feet trampling heavily through his proud scrawlings…

Sanji turned away, Toko now much farther down the hallway, humming a carefree tune to herself as she floated along.

“Toko is an orphan,” the empress said, the gentle breeze playing with her bangs, the two starting after the girl once more. “Our fathers were close, but hers passed away two years ago and she had nowhere to go. She lives here now. Helps around the palace.” She smiled and glanced Sanji’s way. “You know, it’s said her father died laughing.”

One look at Toko ahead of them, the girl waiting at the end of the hallway for a beat before vanishing around the corner with her identifying grin...

Sanji smirked.

“I’d believe it,” he murmured, smirk growing when he heard the empress’ quiet chuckle beside him.

It was peculiar, Sanji thought, to stroll so amiably with an essential stranger. He was surely a stranger to her himself. After all, he hardly felt like the same person as that small six-year-old who’d seen that mysterious burst of light between the lush rows of grapes in the castle vineyard.

A little boy, not yet ruined by his father and brothers’ abuse, who’d tugged on his mother’s dress lightly, and found a foreign girl huddled there in the vineyard path, clutching a mysterious scroll, alone and trembling, but shedding no tears.

She never had, the entire time she’d stayed in Germa, and in fact, she’d never even spoken a word, an eventual messenger the only way they’d even come to learn of the terrible events in Wano.

Sanji had stayed with her, talked to her, even if she remained silent, because even though he hadn’t understood her sorrow and trauma at the time, in his young mind, he’d known it mattered, and he’d known she needed a friend.

Now, thirteen years later, he did understand her plight. He understood fully, that horrible terror and wrenching uncertainty that came with losing a parent. Even Toko did, apparently.

But here the empress and the girl were, their smiles full of genuine light, and Sanji had no idea, no idea how it was possible…

And he had no idea how to talk about it.

“You have a lovely voice, Empress,” he finally murmured, deciding that he could at least compliment her on that, even if he still felt too insecure to openly acknowledge his own weakness in comparison. “I feared, even then, I might never hear it.”

They reached the end of the hallway and turned, now heading down a long, low-ceilinged passage connecting to another building, Toko still farther ahead.

“It was my own way of coping,” the empress said, and when Sanji spared her a glance, her head was held high, a twinkle of bold determination in her eye, particularly when she looked at him seriously. “But I quickly realized that silence would not change the past, certainly not bring back those who were lost. And it would not lead my country…”

He found himself nodding, even though shame filled his chest at his own inability to live by those words.

“Empress…” he murmured after a moment, and voiced something that had taken him aback when they’d reunited. “Why did you seem surprised I was alive….?”

Her brow furrowed at that, and she slowed her steps a little to fix him with her full attention.

She looked at him for a long moment, her breathing light as she studied his face.

“We were told you died…” she finally said gently, her free hand coming to rest on his arm.

Sanji’s heart knocked hard in his chest, a sickening feeling suddenly rising in his throat in lieu of any response he could have had.

The look on his face must have been troubled enough that the empress shifted to take his hand in both of hers, giving a comforting squeeze.

“Shortly after I returned to Wano, all those years ago,” she explained quietly. “We received word that you had died of a mysterious illness. So soon after...my family and the Scabbards, I….” She trailed off, closing her eyes for a moment before continuing. “It was a shock. Even as young as you were, you were so kind to me. I never forgot it.”

The blond stayed quiet, finding it difficult to quell the dread he felt. Perhaps worst of all, he didn’t feel angry, merely defeated...accepting...

“A few days ago,” the empress added. “A messenger arrived with wanted posters for a missing person from Germa. No mention of a name. The illustration was rather crude, but I knew it was you.”

A faint attempt at a smile, but her brows soon furrowed again, her gaze now fixed on him intently, almost searching his face for answers.

“What I can’t understand was why we were told you were dead,” she said. “You’re their prince. Was it false information? Was it sent prematurely? Did you survive your illness or—?”

“I was never ill,” Sanji cut in, his voice void of any emotion. “I’ve just been dead to my father since that time. He told my kingdom I was dead….kept me locked away. I guess I’m not surprised he wanted the world to think so as well.”

A flash of empathy flickered through the empress’ eyes, fingers giving his another squeeze.

“Why…?” she murmured.

“I bear no Seal, unlike the rest of my siblings,” he said with a dejected shrug. “After Kaido attacked your kingdom, my father began to see them as weapons. In case Kaido targeted Germa. And….considering the Seal Kaido obtained from your brother, we would need the extra power to combat him.” Sanji sighed. “He had no use for _my_ weak form.”

The empress was silent, Toko’s faint humming ahead of them and the soft padding of their footsteps the only sounds to break it. Sanji knew he’d troubled her with his explanation, and while he most certainly did not want to do that, he was merely stating facts, things he’d learned to live with. He didn’t need pity.

“Perhaps he was trying to protect you…” she eventually said, her voice quiet, but a little hopeful.

Still, he had to shake his head.

“No,” he murmured. “If he’d really wanted to protect me, he would have trained me like my siblings. But he made my worth to the family very clear.... My mother was the only one that kept me safe until now.”

Another silence, this one heavier than the last as that familiar dark fog of sorrow crept over his heart, grew to cloud the very air around them.

“Is the news about your mother true…?” the empress asked quietly.

He nodded, looking straight ahead through that blurry fog. “Yes.”

He felt her weight grow heavier against his shoulder, the smooth pad of her thumb brushing over the back of his hand, an attempt at comfort. “I’m so sorry.”

Sanji swallowed back the stinging lump in his throat. “Me too…”

It seemed the conversation was ruined, as thoughts tumbled back into darkness. Not even the sunlight, shining warm and bright through the windows on either side of them, was enough to light up his spirits.

It was a slump he admittedly hadn’t felt all day, not since he’d been lost in the woods, alone and hungry. Shit, he was still pretty hungry too…

But why was that? What had cleared the fog, if only for a short while? Nothing had changed. He’d merely been burdened with the presence of that irritating swordsman for most of the morning. Nothing else remarkable.

That strange swordsman with his strange attitude, strange hair, strange Seal on his chest, strange smirk that had seemed to be hiding something…

Sanji wanted to see him again, he realized. He still had to kick his useless ass, even if just verbally, for dragging him to the palace like some kind of animal. For some reason, the swordsman’s very presence lit a fire in him he’d never been brave enough to unleash.

“Seals do not dictate a person’s worth.”

The empress’ voice cut into his thoughts, Sanji almost forgetting where he was for a moment as his mind wandered.

He turned to look at her, blinking owlishly.

“That’s what I believe,” she continued, meeting his eye with a small upturn of lips. “Only my mother and brother possessed one, and yet my father was emperor. And he was loved by the people. Just as much as my mother and brother.”

The blond resisted the urge to scoff in the presence of such a respected woman, but he couldn’t exactly help it. Not when he remembered clearly how the people in the streets had looked so sneeringly at Zoro. How her very advisor had dismissed him so readily. Surely the commonfolk didn’t share the sentiments of the past. In fact, it appeared to be the exact opposite now.

“Of course, Wano has changed,” the empress continued, her brow furrowing as she confirmed Sanji’s thoughts. “Since my family was killed. Since my brother’s Seal was taken. Most see Seals as threats now, a target on our kingdom to lure other greedy enemies. Those who bear Seals keep them hidden.”

“Not your swordsman,” Sanji replied, Zoro's smug face filling his mind. “I saw his clear as day.”

Again, her lips pulled up, though the warmth didn’t quite reach her eyes, her gaze seeming to travel far from the passageway they walked through now.

She seemed to mull over her words for a minute before eventually replying, “Zoro is….different.”

“So I judged,” he muttered.

Surprisingly, she chuckled, and when he glanced over at her, her smile was fond.

“Perhaps you two have that in common,” she said, an impish glint in her eye. “If you’d like, I can order him to train you~”

“I think I’d prefer to train on my own,” he answered quickly, knowing that would surely be disastrous, even barely knowing the man.

She sighed as they rounded a corner in the hall, a long row of doors appearing to their right.

“Well, as much as I appreciate your offer of help, I’d like to avoid seeing you truly killed,” the empress admitted, fingers squeezing his. “I haven’t seen the monster myself, but some of the farmers have detailed quite terrifying accounts. Our mountains are full of large beasts, but never have they shown such...murderous intent.”

Murderous intent, she said, and yet the damn swordsman had traipsed around the wilderness like it was nothing.

“You sent Zoro to defeat it,” he mumbled, trying not to sound sulky, but he did have some pride left to uphold.

Pride that was effectively crushed when she replied, “Zoro is strong. Stronger than anyone here,” though her tone was somewhat wistful, particularly when she continued. “His history with our family goes back...to the day of Kaido’s massacre.”

“How so…?” he asked slowly, studying her face and wondering what history lay behind her words. His gaze drifted to her turquoise hair. “Are you related?”

This earned him a bright laugh from the empress, her eyes alight with mirth.

“No,” she assured. “But he has pledged his life to me. I think….it’s a story he might not want _me_ to tell you.”

Sanji couldn’t help the small frown of confusion that came to his lips. Yet more mysteries unfolded, but he decided to let it go for the moment as the empress stopped before a door. Toko was nearby, he noticed, dutifully sliding open a few more wooden panels along the wall to let in more fresh air and sunlight.

“Get some rest, Sanji,” said the empress, gesturing towards the door before them, and he realized they’d seemingly arrived at their destination. “I’ll have you sent something to eat. Along with someone to show you to the bathhouse.”

His stomach dropped a little with embarrassment, the blond briefly glancing down at his own form, which could certainly be described as haggard at best, and he knew he hardly smelled anywhere near as enticing as the empress’ perfume.

A hand covered her mouth as she chuckled.

“Will you join me tomorrow morning for breakfast?” she asked, and though Sanji felt his face heating yet again, he hastily nodded.

“Of course, Empress.”

“Hiyori~” she corrected, with a wink and a gentle squeeze of his shoulder. “Now go. Unless you’d like company in the bath~”

To add to his torture, his heart stuttered, eyes going wide and his mouth gaping for a response, none escaping him beyond an unbecoming stammer.

The empress merely giggled, then stepped away.

“Until later, Sanji,” she said, a hand coming to rest gently on Toko’s head when the girl joined the empress at her side, giving Sanji a cheeky wave of her own. The empress’ voice softened. “I’m so glad to see you again.”

Then the two turned away, leaving Sanji staring after them for a bit too long, his pulse still hammering a bit too hard.

But when they turned the corner, leaving him alone in the long hall, he managed a deep breath, which he let out slowly, a faint smile reaching his lips.

“Likewise… Hiyori,” he murmured.

* * *

When Sanji slid open the door to his room, his breath caught because, although the room was minimally decorated, again with soft woven floors and wooden accents, he was treated to an uninterrupted view of that magnificent garden they’d passed on the way. The walls of the room had been slid open entirely, letting in the warm breeze and the soothing floral scent of the air.

Sanji closed the entrance behind him, noted a pair of sandals, similar to the empress’, positioned near the door, and climbed the raised step into the room.

A low table sat in the center of the room, upon which a steaming pot of tea already waited for him, inviting enough that he took a few minutes to indulge, cradling a small ceramic cup in his palms as he knelt there, taking in the moment of tranquility and trying to clear his brain of all he’d experienced in the past hour alone. It was enough to make anyone’s head spin.

Eventually, he padded from the first room into a second one, an adjacent bedroom by the looks of it, its doors closed to the garden, with a thin sleeping mat laid out on the floor, topped with ornately-patterned layers of blankets. Folded atop the blankets were what looked like a robe and a sash.

He couldn’t help the near shudder that escaped him, so enticing was the sight, and it was almost a rush to throw off his bow, his arrow quiver, all his clothes, slip into the clean cotton of that striped robe, and stretch out blissfully on the mat with a euphoric sigh.

He lay there, breathing in the soothing scent of pine, reminding him of the deep forest in which he’d spent the last few days, but this was relaxing, faintly mixed with smoke or incense that he couldn’t quite identify.

It didn’t matter, Sanji thought, as his eyes closed of their own accord. There were certainly plenty of things about Wano that he didn’t yet understand. But these were things he could discover later, because for all his haste to be in and out quickly, he could admit that he’d perhaps earned a bit of rest, as the empress—Hiyori—had so urged.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, time seeming to pass in a strange haze measured only by his slow breaths and the passing of shade over his closed eyelids as the day wore on, the sun reaching its height and beginning its descent.

...

Or at least, he’d assumed it was the sun, for when he opened his eyes again, he found the room entirely dark, save for a small wood-framed lantern he noticed in the corner, the flickering dance of a flame visible through its translucent paper.

He slowly sat up, unsure of his surroundings for a moment before he remembered the garden, the empress’ sweet smile….Zoro’s titanic grip on his arm….his knees slamming hard into tile.

A sudden tapping sound in the darkness, and his head whipped towards the source, though he couldn’t locate it, the room empty as before. He could have imagined it...

But then, that tapping persisted, a leisurely wave of successive clicks that Sanji quickly realized was not coming from the room itself but from outside, beyond its thin walls.

Those clicks grew louder, closer in their lazy approach, and the very air turned dark around him, even the lantern’s light seeming hesitant to shine. He now feared what lay in the sheer black beyond the room’s threshold.

Sweat began to bead on his forehead, his heartbeat quickening, the rush of blood in his ears filling the silence surrounding him.

The room grew frigid, his body rooted to the spot, and suddenly, it hit him. That all too familiar terror, the same as he’d felt in the forest, as if a heavy shroud had been dropped on the world, the approach of those clicks entirely sinister.

Closer…. Closer…. Toying with his senses until they came to a sudden halt, the lantern’s flame giving a shudder, lanky shadows contorting along the walls.

And then, the low scrape of unmistakable scratching, long and loud, right on the other side of the wall, enough to send a tremor through his body, the sound raking through his chest like a blade.

One scratch…. Digging into the wooden floor… Another…… A third…… A fourth….

Then, silence. Silence, save for the slow expelling of air from lungs that weren’t his own, his own breath frozen.

The light from the lantern flickered out in one fell swoop, plunging the room into sheer darkness.

Until, with a massive rattle, the paper stretching the walls tore, claws puncturing it, ripping parallel trails clean through.

The moon shone through the holes, bright and full, into the room, a beam of light illuminating him where he quaked in horror.

Then the moon disappeared, replaced by a black void, and a single crimson eye locking onto him.

An otherworldly growl shook the air.

Even his own scream died in his throat.

And then he gasped, a great gulp of air that caused his whole body to lurch, eyes shooting open to find the ceiling above him, softly lit by the sinking orange of sunset.

Sanji scrambled up to find himself in the same room, his face covered in a cold sweat, but the room was light, not yet engulfed in that horrible darkness.

The wall stood intact, the paper undamaged.

And Sanji nearly jumped out of his skin to find a young woman knelt on the floor by the open door to his bedroom, peering timidly into the room.

“A-Ah!” she huffed in surprise, averting her gaze. “Forgive me for disturbing you. I’ve merely delivered your dinner. Also taken your clothes for washing. Please excuse me.”

She placed her hands on the floor, bowing low, before getting to her feet and shuffling from the room, the eventual slide of another door signalling her exit.

Left alone in silence once more, Sanji’s heart hadn’t stopped its pounding, his entire body on edge, as if any second he’d hear that telltale click of claws on wood again, hear the fierce tearing, and see that red eye burning into him…

Could he even eat now? He wasn’t sure, even as his stomach gave a protesting rumble to contradict his thoughts.

Still, he didn’t want to sit there alone in such an enclosed space, so he quickly got to his feet and hurried into the other room, where the doors to the garden still stood open, letting in the comforting view of the setting sun and the light breeze that was nowhere near stifling.

On the table in the center of the room sat a pot of some kind of stew, the homey smell of boiling vegetables and broth taking him right back to the kitchens of the castle in Germa, where he’d spent so much of his time growing up. And the sight of a steaming grilled fish and rice, waiting for him on another platter, instantly told him to forget his damn anxiety and sit down to enjoy his first proper meal in days.

So he did just that, even if fingers clumsily handled the two short tapered sticks meant as utensils, his eyes constantly darting around the room as he ate, the vivid memory of that monstrous stare boring into him...

* * *

Sanji didn’t wait for an escort to lead him to the bathhouse after his meal, which was perhaps foolish considering the darkening halls and the many wrong turns he made as a result, but dammit, he wanted to prove to himself and to any shitty demons that haunted him that he wasn’t scared. He couldn’t be scared anymore, especially if he was to face this beast again for real, had _volunteered_ for it, for fuck’s sake.

As it was, Zoro was probably already wandering the mountains in search of it at this point in the evening...

And yet, after some time, Sanji managed to find himself, somewhat miraculously, in what had to be the bathhouse, a large tiled room, lit by lanterns, the walls lined with the gaping maws of stone dragons who spewed, not fire, but water from their mouths.

The room was empty, so he tentatively entered, eventually stripping down and seating himself on a small wooden stool where he proceeded to fill a nearby bucket with water and dump the entire contents over his head.

It was freezing, but he hardly cared. It felt far more refreshing than it should have.

Another bucket by the wall contained bars of waxy soap, and he set to washing himself, every nook and cranny, almost frantically, as if it could cleanse him of not only the physical dirt, but every negative thing he’d been feeling.

He could have been there for an hour, for all he knew, the sun sinking ever lower outside the open door, a cool night breeze blowing the hanging cloths that shielded the entrance.

Except no...that wasn’t the entrance. It was another doorway he hadn’t noticed at first, on the opposite end of the room, this one with a stone path visible through the open lower half, the warm light of yet more flickering lanterns illuminating it.

Curious, Sanji filled up one last bucket-full of water, rinsed himself of all suds, then got to his feet.

He grabbed up his robe, tied it around his waist, and slowly moved to peer through the doorway.

Sanji inhaled sharply in surprise. The door led outside, to another enclosed garden, this one peppered with several large pools of steaming water amongst the trees, a lantern-lined walkway leading to each.

Again, the space was empty, so, with a glance behind him, he stepped outside and made his way along a path, to the nearest pool.

Another quick survey of the area to assure he was alone, then he slipped out of his robe and, nude, slid slowly into the warm water, first a toe to test, then his whole body once he became used to the heat.

A deep relaxed sigh and he leaned back against the rocks, tilting his head to the sky and closing his eyes, nothing but the sound of trickling water and the rustle of the wind in the trees to accompany him.

“Mind if I join you, Prince?”

Sanji’s eyes shot open with a start, and he hastily turned to see the broad form of Kawamatsu, clad only in a green robe circling his thick waist, his orange hair like flames underlit by the lanterns.

The blond stammered for a second, but eventually regained himself enough to shake his head and slide to the side, allowing the man more room to climb in.

He averted his eyes automatically as Kawamatsu’s robe met the stones beside the water, followed by the long sword he still carried, and then his own nude body slipped in with a satisfied sigh.

Sanji sunk lower into the water self-consciously, arms crossing over his torso. Not that his nudity was exposed, hidden by the dark water, but he still found himself a little embarrassed, particularly when the air fell into a silence he deemed awkward, though the other man seemed not to mind.

The silence persisted for a while, long enough that Sanji wondered if the man would say nothing at all. But, after some minutes, Kawamatsu’s perceptive gaze met his, now unobscured by the hat and scarf he’d worn earlier.

“I’m afraid I can’t apologize for my wariness earlier, Prince. When it came to letting you stay,” said the samurai. “But I do owe you thanks.”

“Thanks for what?” the blond asked, raising a brow.

After all, he remembered the man’s so-called ‘wariness’ a little differently. Not so much cautious, but more so contemptuous. Perhaps Sanji’s own reaction had been a little brash, volunteering to kill the monster as he had. But if proving himself was what he needed to do...

“For the kindness you bestowed on the empress when she was a girl,” Kawamatsu continued, admittedly not the answer Sanji was anticipating. “I worried immensely after I sent her away, but it seems your care resonated with her, to this day.”

“It was nothing,” Sanji replied, somewhat taken aback. “I…. I needed a friend.”

Kawamatsu nodded, and Sanji noticed the man’s gaze shift distinctly to his bare chest, something that automatically had Sanji lifting a hand to brush over it uneasily, even if his lack of a Seal seemed to be preferred in Wano.

“You and the Empress are alike,” the man eventually said. “I sense you will be a great leader. _Without_ the need for excess power.”

It was odd for Sanji to hear. It was certainly a sentiment he’d never before heard in his life, not even from his mother, but where it should have been encouraging, there was something about the intensity behind Kawamatsu’s words that sent a twinge of discomfort through the blond. He struggled to conceal it.

“Thank you, but I shall never see my family’s throne,” he murmured in reply. “Even if I was first in line, my father would never allow it.”

Kawamatsu shifted in the water, a frown coming to his thin lips, dark eyes lifting to Sanji’s face.

“With all due respect, your father has his values backwards.”

Sanji let out a dry laugh, one that held little humor and much bitterness.

“I can certainly agree with that,” he muttered. “I’ve experienced his shortcomings firsthand, to put it lightly—”

“You misunderstand, Prince.”

The samurai cut him off, his tone sharper than expected, causing Sanji to snap his mouth shut, his body instinctively slinking further away in the water, his increasing discomfort most likely obvious by that point.

“There are hard truths that must be faced when ruling a country,” Kawamatsu explained coldly. “Your father has not recognized the _true_ threat to this world.”

“Seals, you mean,” Sanji replied.

Kawamatsu nodded.

Sanji’s whole life had been dictated by this same threat, one that had pressed him down both physically and mentally since birth, given him the still-healing bruises to prove it.

And yet, his mind drifted instantly to the green-haired swordsman again, whose gruff attitude had somehow managed to be endearing, intriguing at the very least. And whose irritated scowl had seemed to be concealing something other than just anger….

Sanji could have sworn he’d witnessed a flash of his own pain in Zoro’s eyes. But perhaps that was merely wishful thinking, his own attempts to justify his inexplicable curiosity about someone who he had every reason to hate...

“Perhaps things could have been different in Wano,” Kawamatsu mused quietly, interrupting Sanji’s thoughts after a long moment. “Had Kaido not attacked. But there is no use dwelling on what could have been. Even if my shame still plagues me. As I often tell the Empress, we must live with the fate presented to us, and do what we can to ensure the past does not repeat itself.”

His words rang true, but still, Sanji found himself contradicting them. For all this man deemed it useless to dwell on the past, he still seemed to let it dictate his life. Just as Sanji’s father did. It was starting to unsettle him.

“Kaido has long since moved on,” the blond replied carefully. “He already got what he came for. Surely there is no need for fear any longer—”

“Nonetheless, he has left his mark on this land,” Kawamatsu said. “And the Empress has unfortunately forbidden me from destroying that final link to his power.”

“Final link?” Sanji repeated with a deepening frown. As far as he knew, Kaido was gone from Wano, which had served no further use to him after obtaining the prince’s Seal.

What could possibly be left…?

Just then, a shadow shifted in the doorway of the bathhouse, and Sanji made out the shape of a figure slipping through the hanging cloths out into the open, his damp torso glistening in the low light of the lanterns, Seal dark as a ragged hole on his chest.

A trio of sheathed swords he held in his grasp, and his blindingly white robe stood out around his waist, as did the whites of his eyes when they locked onto Sanji’s. Mild surprise crossed Zoro’s face upon seeing him, the swordsman pausing there in the doorway.

Kawamatsu noticed the drifting of Sanji’s stare, the man turning to glance over his shoulder as well, his own gaze running frigid when he too laid eyes on the swordsman.

“That is also not to say there aren’t others who lust for such power,” the man continued slowly, his eyes not leaving Zoro, who’d looked away from both of them and begun to slink off to the other side of the garden instead, towards the far end of a separate pool.

Sanji looked away with some difficulty when the swordsman eventually began fumbling with his robe to remove it.

“I suppose I have no business dictating how to run your country,” Sanji said instead, Kawamatsu sliding his attention back to Sanji as well. “I merely sympathize with those scorned, that is all.”

Because things may have been opposite to Germa here, but he knew how it felt to be reviled for something he couldn’t control.

He heard a faltering splash come from Zoro’s direction, as if he’d stumbled getting into the water, but he didn’t look over.

“A price to pay for Wano’s safety,” Kawamatsu said with cool judgment that he now seemed to pass on the blond as well. But Sanji stared back defiantly, with courage he perhaps couldn’t have mustered in front of his own family.

The air grew silent for a long minute, the blond unsure if the samurai would speak again.

He didn’t, just let out a sigh eventually, and plopped hands on his knees to get to his feet, displacing a wave with his large form that splashed up Sanji’s chest.

“Well, I will leave you to it,” he said, his expression unclear as Sanji quickly dropped his gaze to the rippling water between them. “Enjoy your evening, Prince.”

The blond nodded and mumbled his thanks as the man climbed out of the pool and gathered his belongings, eventually lumbering back off where he disappeared into the bathhouse once more.

That left Sanji keenly aware of the moss-headed swordsman’s presence, the two of them now alone in the night air.

Somehow, Sanji was unsurprised to find Zoro’s eyes already trained on him when he glanced over subtly.

It wasn’t a glare though. In fact, there was almost confusion behind the swordsman’s gaze, visible even in the dim light. Confusion that seemed far more vulnerable than the blond had assumed possible.

Neither said a word, Sanji eventually settling back against the rock and sinking low into the water, closing his eyes to the increasing sounds of crickets raising their shrill voices in the evening.

He stayed there until he heard the sloshing of Zoro exiting his pool, the faint slap of his bare feet crossing the stones once more.

Soon, Zoro had left too.

Though Sanji had definitely heard him hesitate near the bathhouse for a long moment...

* * *

Sleep evaded Sanji that night, enough so that, the next morning, when an escort came to fetch him, another young woman in a patterned robe, Sanji was already awake, sitting on the step that led to the garden outside of his room, watching the sunrise peeking out through the branches of the massive tree that loomed above. He was thankful it wasn’t hidden because he was eager to see it, when his thoughts had continually whirled in a dark cyclone all night after both his nightmare of the creature and his encounter with Kawamatsu.

But despite every strange thing he’d experienced, one thought persisted in his mind.

The desire to confront that damn swordsman, whose eyes had stayed in Sanji’s mind far more stubbornly than even the piercing crimson of the monster’s. He wasn’t sure why, but Sanji was beginning to wonder if it was Zoro who held the answers to the mysteries that seemed to cloud this land.

There was much that still frightened Sanji, pathetically so, but somehow, despite every reason he should have had, he couldn’t believe Zoro was one of those frightening things. He couldn’t be, not when Hiyori seemed to trust him so. Not when he remembered his teasing smile, which had _surely_ been real, not to mention that odd look of his in the bath garden the previous evening.

If Zoro was a threat, he wanted to find out for himself, once and for all. He didn’t want to take anyone else’s word for it. He wanted to confront that which he should fear, from here on out, and maybe this was the first step.

And if he ended up a fool, well….it wasn’t as if he had much left to lose in this world.

So with those thoughts in mind, he took up his bow and arrow quiver and followed the quiet escort, barefoot, through the open halls of the compound towards what he assumed would be the palace to meet the Empress.

The escort’s long robes swished smoothly over the wooden floor ahead of him, and the morning breeze tickled Sanji’s hair.

He took the moment to suck in a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever conversations, potentially unwanted, inevitably awaited him….

….only for a hand to clamp down over his mouth, stifling his yelp of surprise, dragging him off through one of the open doors beside the hallway, his bare feet landing on a soft bed of moss.

The hand continued to pull him down behind some low bushes until the escort rounded the corner of the hallway and disappeared without so much as a backwards glance, oblivious to the sudden assault.

Quickly, he whirled around, fully expecting to find that feral grin of the swordsman’s, already growling, “What the hell do you think you’re—?”

But instead, there was the pleasant smile of none other than the _empress,_ looking far less groomed than the day before, bare-faced, her long hair gathered messily atop her head in a loose bun, her cotton robes far less decorated.

He’d worn his new striped robe as well, tied his hair up as best he could in a small bun himself, though half of it still fell persistently around his face.

It had been an attempt to blend in better with the locals, but here crouched the country’s _monarch,_ and a _lady_ no less, right there in the bushes with him. His own attempts at grooming seemed not to matter.

“Good morning, Sanji~” Hiyori chirped, laughing when his jaw dropped in shock.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked casually when he didn’t reply right away, to which he could do nothing but stammer.

“I-I—Yes.” Even though he’d barely managed to doze. “Thank you, Empress…” He shook his head, squeezing eyes shut before correcting himself. “Hiyori. Please forgive my—”

“Good,” she interrupted with a bright smile and reached out to squeeze his hand, tugging him up to his feet. “Now let’s go, before the morning market gets too busy~”

“Go where?” he stuttered as she pulled him nimbly onto the stone path, her own bare feet carrying her gracefully along.

“Breakfast,” she replied with a playful glance back over her shoulder. “Aren’t you hungry? I’d much prefer to eat outside the palace. Unless you’d rather stay here?”

Her face fell a little with that question, the burgeoning disappointment clear on her features, as well as the beginnings of what may have been a manipulative emotional ploy when her eyes seemed to shimmer under the climbing sun.

A ploy that he fell right into when he quickly answered, “Whatever you want!”

Her face instantly lit up again, her steps regaining their bounce by the time they reached the other end of the garden, Hiyori guiding him confidently back up the step onto a perpendicular walkway that looked nearly identical to the last.

With nothing else to do, he followed her as she slid open an inconspicuous door panel, this one depositing them on the outer perimeter of the building, under the shade of a line of tall trees that stood just inside the high stone wall that circled the entire compound.

Hiyori released Sanji’s hand and hopped right down onto the ground outside, stooping to pull out a pair of sandals from a gap under the building, a second pair following that, which she scooted towards Sanji. Clearly, she’d had this planned.

“Uh...Empress,” Sanji stammered, still somewhat baffled, but sliding feet onto the provided sandals nonetheless. “What about—?”

“Kawamatsu?” she asked, slipping on her own shoes and closing the panel behind him. “He’s no doubt waiting for us right now. But Toko is rather good at distracting him.”

“Does he hold much sway over what you do?” Sanji replied, admittedly finding her energy a bit contagious, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips as he teetered on the elevated sandals.

“He tries,” she hummed, reaching out to steady him before she leaned in conspiratorially. “But I don’t always let him.” Then she took his hand and gave another eager tug. “Now, come!”

And she dragged him off, a burgeoning sense of exhilaration in his chest as he stumbled after her.

* * *

The capital was just as lively as it had been the previous day, still with vibrant sights and sounds at every turn, but with Hiyori, it managed, somehow, to seem brighter. The Empress was hardly dressed in her full regalia, yet this almost seemed to enhance her presence, Sanji thought.

Her arm looped casually through his, Hiyori eagerly led him through the town, _her_ town by the looks of it, the expressions of passersby lighting up upon seeing her, her feet carrying her swiftly and easily through streets she seemed to know well.

Stall owners waved, offered ‘the usual.’ Respectful, but friendly greetings sang out on every block. Children approached to gift her flowers. The very sun seemed to step out from behind the clouds to shine on their path.

And it was while the two of them munched on delicious meat skewers given to them for free, listening to Hiyori happily pointing out the capital’s best noodle stands and most talented seamstresses, that Sanji came to realize this was what Germa was missing.

 _This_ was a true ruler, one that wove themselves among the people, _was_ an ordinary person, with the same mundane interests and joys as the rest. It was how he’d always imagined his mother to be, though her poor health had kept her from public appearance, particularly during the last few years of her life. It was how, in his most hopeful moments, he’d fantasized _himself_ to be, should he ever ascend the throne.

And yet, Hiyori was no fantasy. _Wano_ was no fantasy.

It was almost surreal, certainly the complete opposite to his introduction the previous day, when crowds had scowled in disdain and parted for an entirely different reason, a reason that couldn’t stay off his mind for long because—

“Zoro!”

Hiyori’s face lit up, and suddenly, the empress was tugging him along faster, Sanji’s head whipping through the crowds for a glimpse of green hair, confused when he saw no stray patches of moss.

Until Sanji noticed the empress’ gaze was directed upwards and he finally locked eyes on a particular swordsman, lazily reclined on a _rooftop_ of all places, head propped on a hand and his eyes closed as if he’d fallen asleep there.

The slow movement of his jaw chewing on the long blade of grass that stuck out from between lips betrayed his consciousness, however, the swordsman opening an eye a second later to lock perceptively onto the two when they stopped below him.

Of course, they were also met by a rather disgruntled old woman, incessantly swatting at the scalloped roof tiles with a broom. Her hunched petite form struggled to reach though, and her shoulders visibly slumped with relief seeing the empress.

“Ah, Your Majesty!” the woman exclaimed wearily, her sagging cheeks red with both rouge and fluster. “Please do something! He’s been there all morning, and he’s scaring away customers!”

An insistent gesture to her nearby stand of apples, which stood devoid of business despite its enticing display.

“Shoo! Shoo, I say!” And the woman started her efforts anew, frantically waving her broom, even as Zoro closed his eyes again and ignored her.

Sanji had to cringe at the ridiculous scene, though Hiyori seemed unperturbed, the empress merely stepping forward with a subtle smile to press a hand gently onto the woman’s shoulder.

She said nothing, but the message was there. She would handle this, and her quiet insistence was enough to make the old woman sigh and trundle back to her stand, grumbling under her breath.

Only after she’d left them alone did the swordsman finally acknowledge their presence. Although, with his eyes still closed, he looked to be sleep-talking more than anything.

“Don’t you remember what happened last time you snuck out...” he muttered, to which the empress merely chuckled.

“Don’t you remember we have a guest?” she replied, gesturing to Sanji with a smile that was cheeky enough to prove she could hold her own against the rude oaf, to Sanji’s subtle surprise.

“I’m aware,” the swordsman mumbled in reply, his brow furrowing irritably for reasons unknown.

Sanji was certain an eye roll would have accompanied that statement. One certainly escaped the blond, but he managed to stay silent for the empress’ sake.

“I haven’t heard talk of monster sightings last night,” Hiyori continued, something that had Sanji’s eyes sliding to her with an uncomfortable knock of his chest. “Does this mean you’ve succeeded?”

Somehow, Zoro’s brows drew in even further, his eyes finally opening to stare hard at the shiny roof tiles.

“I couldn’t track it,” he muttered, barely audible.

How the hell had he not? Sanji had to wonder, particularly when a closer examination of Zoro’s face revealed tired dark circles beneath his eyes. Had he been searching for it all night?

“Perhaps it’s moved on finally,” the empress offered hopefully.

“Doubt it….” Zoro replied, almost sulking now as he picked absently at his robe.

But then his eyes lifted sharply to lock onto Sanji’s, something oddly knowing passing between them in a way that sent a chill down the blond’s spine, as if Zoro could read his mind, see straight through to the unsettling nightmare he’d experienced.

The intensity of the moment had Sanji’s breath hitch, and he broke eye contact first, struggling to will away the strange heat that spread over his face.

“Optimism, Zoro~” Hiyori reminded sweetly, and though Sanji didn’t look at him, the annoyed exhale and the long silence that followed was enough to spell out the swordsman’s irritation.

A few seconds later, he mumbled a dismissive, “Did you need me for anything?”

Hiyori merely shrugged gracefully though, her free hand coming to rest on Sanji’s arm.

“No, I suppose not right now,” she said. Her lips lifted with a teasing smirk. “But I’m still waiting for that kata training you promised.”

“You _made_ me promise,” Zoro complained as he sat up, pulling his swords into his lap to examine them. “Your focus was all over the damn place last time.”

She laughed. “It’s not my fault the world is full of so many distractions!”

The swordsman huffed. _“Butterflies_ aren’t distracting—!”

But Zoro suddenly cut himself off, his unraveled expression quickly turning stoic, and for a moment, Sanji wasn’t sure why, until...

“I love butterflies!”

The startling entrance of a new, much younger voice, directing Sanji’s attention to Hiyori’s waist, where now stood Toko, grinning excitedly up at the group.

And behind her stood the broad, imposing figure of the empress’ retainer, his face once again largely hidden by his wide hat and scarf, but it was clear from his stance that he was far from pleased.

Movement on the rooftop, and it was Zoro getting up, gathering his swords and walking off without another word, his movements easy and lithe, even on the sloping tiles.

Kawamatsu’s voice quickly fell into scolding the sheepish empress, but Sanji’s eyes stayed on the swordsman, who nimbly jumped the distance to the neighboring roof as casually as he’d avoid a rut in the road.

...

_“Your Majesty, the meeting.”_

_“The meeting?”_

_“Regarding the irrigation canals.”_

_“Yes?”_

...

The conversation faded into the background, and Sanji took an unconscious step away from the group the moment the empress’ arm slipped from his.

...

_“You’re late, Empress.”_

_“Am I?”_

_“You are.”_

_“Oops, I am! Well, I suppose duty calls.”_

…

The blond was already several paces away, fixated on Zoro’s retreating form so as not to lose him.

A chuckle behind him, and Hiyori’s voice grew louder.

“Sanji? Will you—?”

He jolted a little, glancing over his shoulder to find the remaining three staring at him, Hiyori tilting her head with a bit of curiosity at his dazed expression.

“A-Ah, I think I’d like to explore a bit more,” he said, a bit self-conscious as he turned back to face them, though eyes wanted desperately to follow the swordsman. A hasty bow of his head. “If that’s alright with you, Empress.”

To that, Hiyori smiled brightly.

“Of course! Come find me later?”

He nodded as Kawamatsu took the empress’ arm and pulled her away gently but insistently.

“I recommend Ebisu Town!” Hiyori called over her shoulder as they left, stumbling a bit when Kawamatsu gave another grumpy tug. “Everyone is quite cheerful there!”

“Bye!” Toko called too, the two of them waving before the throngs of pedestrians swallowed them up as if they’d never been there at all.

As soon as they were out of sight, Sanji let his own waving hand drop, and he immediately turned on his heel, taking off after Zoro.

But he was dismayed to find the swordsman gone from his sight as well, his prowling form no longer visible on the rooftops ahead.

Shit. Where the hell had he gone?

He’d been damn stealthy the previous day, leaving Sanji thankful there were no trees overhead as he pushed his way down the street. Still, he kept his gaze fixed above, because, for all he knew, the swordsman was waiting to ambush him from the fucking sky itself.

Nothing. Nothing. Just a blur of robes and confused looks as he jogged with growing frustration.

Until, by a twist of fate, he spotted a glimpse of a familiar green robe on the ground ahead, swishing through the gaps in pedestrians. Pedestrians that sidestepped away with various curses and frowns.

Sanji felt his heart speed up along with his feet.

“Hey!” Sanji called, brushing past a few women who looked rather baffled when they noticed just who he was running toward.

Somewhat predictably, the idiot swordsman ignored him, even as he grew closer.

“Hey!” he called again. “Zoro!”

A flash of purple hair near his waist, the blond nearly plowing over a young girl who just barely scampered out of the way in time.

Damn his sandals. He could hardly keep his balance, unused to them as he was.

“I’m sorry!” he stammered, placing a hand gently on her head and pausing just long enough to assure she was fine before he hurried off again, the girl staring after him.

A few more hurried strides, and finally, his hand clamped down on the swordsman’s shoulder, pulling back hard enough to spin Zoro to face him.

Zoro let out a loud irritated grunt, as if he were some kind of unseemly ape, before he squawked, “What do you want?” in Sanji’s face, tightly-drawn brows certainly not clearing the simian image from the blond’s mind.

Sanji must have caught him off-guard, however, because, for a moment, scrutiny marred his features, the swordsman’s eyes flicking over Sanji’s form briefly. Maybe it was the new robes… But he ultimately shook his head and narrowed his gaze again.

“Shouldn’t you go off with Hiyori? And go deal with royal shit?” Zoro muttered, his tone almost sulky. He turned to shoulder past the blond once more, mumbling, “Since you’re such good friends and all…”

“You’re the one who dragged me to her!” Sanji shot back, striding right up in front of him so he could block Zoro’s path. “I could have been in and out of Wano easily if it hadn’t been for you!”

Not that he wasn’t happy for his reunion with the empress, but the fact still remained that it complicated things.

Zoro scoffed, shifting to the side to avoid him. _“You_ didn’t tell me the truth, _Your Highness.”_

“I was hardly obligated to!” Sanji grumbled, grabbing Zoro’s arm again and forcing him to stop. “You knew who I was anyway! Why did you turn me in?”

“There’s a reward on your head—why do you think?” the swordsman growled, irritation growing, loud enough to draw the attention of several stall keepers nearby, their eyes snapping to them once more.

Sanji bristled self-consciously, stepping up to hiss right back at close proximity.

“I _left_ my kingdom—didn’t you hear me?” he insisted, then, for the sake of any concerned onlookers, he called over his shoulder, “I wasn’t abducted!”

A hiss, and he whipped back to face Zoro. “Are you that greedy?”

“No!” the swordsman retorted, frown trying hard to reach his chin, his eyes darting to Sanji’s hand still holding tight to his arm. “I don’t care about the money! Hiyori said to bring you to her if anyone found you. I didn’t know it was ‘cause she _knew_ you. I was following orders.”

He huffed childishly, and looked away, finally ripping his arm from Sanji’s grip, crossing arms over his chest to mutter, _“You_ must have people who follow _yours…”_

Untrue. Zoro didn’t know anything about Sanji's life, and that only made his arguments all the more invalid. Not to mention infuriating. _Sanji_ was the only one allowed to sulk about his own position in life. Certainly not stupid samurai who couldn’t even think for themselves.

Still, despite his annoyance, Sanji felt himself looking away as well, frowning hard at the wooden wheels of a nearby cart rattling over the dirt.

“My brothers are the real princes,” he muttered eventually. “Not me.”

The market was bustling, but quiet fell between them, and Sanji hated that he could feel the moment Zoro’s eyes shifted back to him, though he didn’t return the gaze. He fucking wished his emotions weren’t as volatile as they were, that a mere mention of his upbringing held no power to trigger anger and helplessness within him. He’d come here with the intention of giving the swordsman an earful, but the flame within him now dulled so easily...

“The queen was your mother…?”

Zoro’s voice rumbled again, surprisingly soft despite his ire of a moment ago, and it was enough to form a lump in Sanji’s throat.

He nodded stiffly, taking a measured breath through his nose.

“Is that why you ran?”

Sanji let out that breath with a frustrated sound and shook his head.

“Enough questions,” the blond muttered, finally meeting Zoro’s eye, if only to shoot him a glare.

Zoro stared back, the activity of the street passing them by as if neither existed, if only the girth people skirted around them wasn’t so abnormally wide. But in a way, it meant the two of them were alone, with no one to burst the strangely intimate bubble that seemed to encapsulate the conversation. Their emotions were contained there...protected...

“Is that all?”

Sanji’s brow furrowed a bit, dragging himself back to the moment to find Zoro looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer almost warily.

“What?” the blond muttered, trying to clear his head.

“Is that all you came to yell at me about?”

Sanji scoffed, a tired sound more than anything. He supposed he could bring up the incident in the marketplace the previous day. The spiteful stares that persisted to this moment, that Zoro had insisted were directed at Sanji.

But knowing what he’d learned from the empress… He elected to leave that concern unspoken for the moment, particularly when Zoro stood there, invisible to the world, but so imposing to him.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Sanji mumbled, a little unsure what to do next now that his initial reason for confronting the man had fizzled.

Zoro’s brow quirked, the swordsman’s stare intensifying the longer Sanji stood there, unmoving.

“Then why are you still here,” Zoro pressed, as if Sanji should have every reason to leave. “Don’t you have a beast to go kill at least?”

Why _was_ Sanji still there? Surely, Zoro's intention was to mock with that question, but Sanji couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more behind that mask, behind the way Zoro’s jaw clenched, somehow mirroring his own awkward uncertainty. It was a contrast to the day before, when his grin had been so bright and teasing.

Now he looked at Sanji with an air of dejection...

“Yes,” Sanji replied, steadying his gaze, and his lips tilted up a bit, his subsequent words tumbling out of him before they could be stopped. “But that’s where you come in.”

Confirming Sanji’s thoughts, Zoro’s eyes widened in surprise, his dumb mouth dropping open slightly before his brows were right back to their near permanent furrow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the swordsman asked, full of suspicion.

“The Empress gave _you_ that job,” Sanji clarified slowly, because Zoro was obviously too dim to figure out his implications. “I’ll be helping you.”

“As if I need your help,” was Zoro’s automatic response, but the edge to his voice was almost inviting this time, certainly still bewildered.

“You know the forests,” said the blond, who stepped forward with hands outstretched, pivoting on his heel to shuffle backwards towards the mountains looming in the distance. His smirk widened, but how could it not when Zoro’s bemusement was becoming downright endearing, yet again. “Show me around so I can get familiar.”

“You just need _my_ help,” Zoro retorted, though he’d slowly begun to follow the blond, coming up to his side as Sanji spun to walk normally again.

“No,” Sanji shot back.

“You do. Admit it.”

_“No.”_

“Then prove it,” Zoro insisted, whacking a fist into Sanji’s back with a dull thump, the blond stumbling a step and scowling when a slow smirk came to Zoro’s lips too.

“Fight me right here,” Zoro challenged, gesturing in front of them. “‘Cause if you can’t get through me, there’s no way you’ll kill that monster.”

Sanji glowered at him, unsure if the guy was really that reckless or if he was just an idiot. Probably both.

“Right here?” he pressed. “In the street?”

Zoro nodded. “Sure. People will move.”

“And what a lovely impression that will leave,” the blond grumbled, the image of shattered market stalls and houses toppling like timber vivid in his mind. But a glance to Zoro, whose demeanor had wilted and fallen back into a more irritated scowl, and he quickly amended his statement. “Besides,” he said. “Arrows against swords is hardly fair.”

Zoro flicked eyes to him for a moment, then huffed.

“True,” he replied. “Not _those_ arrows at least, remember?”

The swordsman reached out to pluck one of the arrows from Sanji’s quiver, twirling the shaft in his hand and boldly touching a finger to the tip of the head. A second of pressure, then he pulled it back smugly to show his undamaged skin, not a bead of blood in sight.

Sanji snatched that arrow back with an indignant grunt, returning it to the quiver sulkily.

“Then let me use one of those,” he said instead, jerking his chin towards the three blades tied to Zoro’s hip. “You’ve got three.”

And considering Zoro’s lack of qualms about stealing one of his own weapons, the blond took the liberty of grabbing the hilt of a sword, the dark one, wrapped tightly with purple cloth.

Ignoring Zoro’s immediately stammered protests, he yanked it out with a smooth slide of metal.

He held the blade out towards Zoro’s face, the metal tempered with a strange flame-like pattern that matched the deep purple of the hilt, and he straightened his shoulders confidently in an attempt to mimic the heroic knights that graced every portrait in his own castle.

Sanji stared Zoro down teasingly, feeling an odd burst of confidence despite the questioning looks from several onlookers. He stood there, waiting for a reaction from Zoro, surely a roll of eyes or some screeching.

But instead, Zoro stood there, hands frozen in mid-air where he’d reached to stop him. His mouth gaping, he stared hard at that blade which rested peacefully in Sanji’s grasp. His chest rose and fell visibly, breaths shuddery, a strange tension mounting between them in that moment.

Yet, the longer it lasted, the more confusion seemed to come over the swordsman’s face. He slowly frowned, looking down at himself, a hand subtly rising to brush over the Seal on his chest before his gaze snapped back to Sanji’s face.

The blond noticed the change, confusion twisting over his own features, enough that he lowered the sword to stare back at Zoro.

“What?” he mumbled, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed, which he tried to remedy with a quip. “Lost the will to fight?”

He was half teasing, though it sure seemed that was exactly what had happened, for whatever strange reason. He resisted the urge to flick eyes to Zoro’s Seal.

This finally earned him the roll of eyes he’d been expecting from the beginning, though Zoro’s irritation seemed to be more for show, a hasty cover-up for whatever strange emotion had crossed his face a moment earlier.

“Shut up,” muttered the swordsman, who reached out to snatch back the blade from Sanji’s hands, quickly returning it to its sheath.

Sanji watched the man’s fingers run over the hilt of the sword for a moment, the careful way they traced the detailed accents and criss-crossing fabric that decorated it. It didn’t seem he was even conscious of it, particularly when he lifted his gaze to Sanji’s again, a bit of that strange vulnerability still lingering.

The blond wondered if perhaps _now_ was the time to mention the glares that persisted through the marketplace, the way the crowds parted and avoided the man in an almost absurd fashion for reasons unknown.

“Zoro…” Sanji began slowly, wary of triggering a negative reaction again. “You work for the Empress, but everyone in town is eyeing you like you have the plague. What’s with that?”

Zoro’s breath shook when he hissed out an exhale, flicking his eyes to the surrounding people for a moment before fixing them on Sanji again, almost defiantly.

“They’re staring at _you,”_ he insisted, but with half the ferocity and double the uncertainty he’d shown the first time.

Sanji was ready, however, not believing his words for a second.

“Not this again,” the blond grumbled, automatically stepping back into the swordsman’s personal space. “Y’know, I was gonna let it go, but you really think I’m stupid? I’m not the one getting death glares! Not to mention the way Kawamatsu treats you.” He paused for a moment, lowering his voice a touch. “It’s ‘cause of your Seal, isn’t it.”

The instant glare he received rivaled those of the townsfolk around them as Zoro shot back, “That’s none of your business.”

“Then forget _my_ business!” Sanji retorted immediately, satisfied when he pushed himself close enough that he forced the swordsman to falter. “Look, I don’t give a shit if you have one or not! In fact, I think you’re damn lucky to have one! But can you at least assure me you’re not about to murder me and take the reward on my head?”

His tirade left a heavy silence between them, and it was strange, seeing the swordsman struggle for words until he ultimately gave up, averting eyes and mumbling, “I told you m’not after any money...”

Sanji didn’t know how he’d expected Zoro to respond to the confrontation, but he’d certainly assumed he’d get a glimpse of that predatory swordsman who’d dragged him to the empress with such relish and cunning. Arrogance and abrasiveness at the very least.

Definitely not this passiveness that had suddenly manifested in Zoro’s hunched shoulders, the anxious way his fingers twitched at the hilt of his sword, not to attack, but instead as a nervous habit, it seemed.

“Good. Then let’s go,” Sanji said, his chest giving an oddly pleasant clench when the swordsman lifted eyes to him again warily, almost as if Sanji was the one to be feared between the two of them. It was a foreign and entirely new feeling, liberating in a way, after living oppressed in his own home for so long.

Thus, his smile had inadvertently grown when he added teasingly, “It hunts at night, right? We’ll need to be ready.”

Zoro scoffed.

“You think you’ll beat it _tonight?”_ the swordsman replied derisively. “You’re delusional. And yeah, you must be stupid if that’s your plan.”

“If I’m to open a path to Goa as soon as possible, then yes, I have to start right away,” Sanji shot back, undeterred.

But Zoro had his next retort ready.

“Why are you trying to leave so quickly? You on a deadline?”

The blond rolled his eyes.

“I said already—it’ll only spell trouble if my father comes in search of me. It’s best if I keep moving.”

“You don’t think you’re safe here?”

“Is that an offer of protection, Zoro?”

Sanji had again stepped closer without knowing it, boldly narrowing the distance between them in an unplanned move that the swordsman seemed to become acutely aware of, judging by his quick inhale and stumble that sent him nearly knocking into a passing cart whose owner sent a string of angry curses his way as he wheeled off.

Yes, there was definitely no way Sanji wanted to stay here, amongst the judgmental townsfolk. For either of their sakes.

But it seemed Zoro was way ahead of him when, after a long moment, he gathered himself with a heavy sigh and a final, equally heavy stare at the blond. Then he abruptly turned and marched off in the opposite direction with a muttered, “Let’s go.”

Sanji blinked, staring after him for several heartbeats before he shook his head quickly and hurried after him.

“Hey!” he called, speeding to catch up. “Go where?”

And to Sanji’s surprise, when Zoro looked at him, the look in his eye was one of growing amusement, though the swordsman clearly tried to hide it with a frown and a gruff response.

“Thought you wanted to learn the forests,” he replied.

Sanji didn’t get the chance to respond before a sudden commotion sounded down the street, dragging both men’s attention towards a barrage of angry shouts, scrambling feet, and then the unmistakable fearful squeal of a young girl.

_“Let go of me! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”_

To Sanji’s surprise, a rare look of unconcealed dread seemed to come over the swordsman’s features at the sound of that voice, the dread palpable when he hissed out, _“Tama!”_

And then he was taking off, abandoning Sanji altogether to sprint and shove his way through the crowds, disappearing into the sea of robes that continued to mill past like nothing was amiss.

Sanji’s stomach dropped, and despite his uncertainty over what was even happening, his first instinct was to shout, “Wait!”, the blond hoisting his bow and arrows up on his shoulder and rushing after Zoro.

An unexpected panic filled his senses, losing Zoro so easily again, and he wasn’t sure why. But he was perhaps coming to realize that he _didn’t_ want to be left alone, not in the midst of chaos at least. Even if that meant following the unpredictable swordsman into a potentially dangerous situation.

So he too dodged carts and passersby alike in a desperate chase down the street until he burst forth at the foot of a bridge, similar to the one he’d crossed in front of the palace gardens. Only this bridge spanned the width of, not a placid moat, but a swiftly moving canal that bubbled and churned far more rapidly beneath.

And standing at the rail of that bridge was a massive man, a deep scowl on his heavily stubbled face, his huge fingers bunched tightly in the verdant robe of a young girl whom he dangled precariously over the water below.

“Think you can steal from me? Huh, kid? You think we don’t all got mouths to feed?!” growled the man ferociously, letting the girl purposefully slip a few inches in his grip, drawing another frightened cry from her lips.

“I’m sorry!” she cried again, legs kicking and head shaking frantically, familiarly violet strands coming loose from her hair bun. “I surrender! I’ll—I’ll pay it back! Just let me go!”

It was the same girl he’d nearly collided with earlier, Sanji realized.

It was also then that he noticed the spilled bag of rice grains littering the ground nearby, just as Zoro became visible ahead of him, pushing through the last of the onlookers with swords drawn to attack.

Sanji wasn’t thinking about the consequences when his hand automatically drew his bow, nocking and aiming an arrow with far quicker precision than he’d shown hunting in the forest. 

He wasn’t thinking when he let that arrow fly, no time to even be surprised as its flight path soared directly through the negative spaces in the crowd towards the man’s arm, where it stabbed flesh with a dull sound and ripped a howl of pain from his victim.

The man’s fist released the girl entirely in his shock, and she plummeted with a scream, Sanji cursing himself for not having foreseen it.

He bolted forward too, just as not one, but two of Zoro’s swords slashed at the man, sending him tumbling to the ground from the force where he nearly bowled over several pedestrians.

Sanji’s heart thundered in his chest, his legs carrying him swiftly to the bridge’s rail. Hands caught himself hard on the vermilion-painted wood as he leaned over, eyes widening when he saw the girl, barely clinging to a support beam several feet down.

His relief couldn’t last long though when the whimpering girl’s trembling fingers nearly slipped.

Instantly, he lunged forward, folding himself over the rail to reach out toward her desperately.

“Grab my hand!” he gritted out, the girl already frantically trying, though she nearly lost her grip once more with a yelp.

A scuffle behind him, followed by the ringing of clashing metal, and Zoro’s voice was gritting out to him, _“She can’t swim!”_ before he gave a fierce growl, the gruff voice of the girl’s attacker also sounding again as they fought.

A shot of newly justified panic cut through the blond as mercilessly as one of those blades, but Sanji couldn’t look. He could only focus all his attention on the girl, leaning down as far as he could, stretching, _straining,_ to reach her. Teeth clenched hard, muscles quivering, the girl’s fingers slipping slowly off the wood.

Until, in a last burst of energy, she swung herself with desperate momentum, her hand finally clamping onto his, just as her other let go, the full weight of her body hanging from Sanji’s arm.

Their victorious smiles only lasted a split second though.

He couldn’t hold her, her weight causing him to finally lose his footing, sliding fully over the rail himself.

It was only when he failed to catch himself, the two of them freefalling towards the water below, that he remembered, foolishly late.

He’d never learned how to swim either.


	3. ACT I: Sunset - PART III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize to anyone who may take issue with the title of this fic. I named it long before the pandemic, and it ultimately proved to be a bad coincidence. I put it on hold for months after receiving backlash because I didn’t want to upset anyone.
> 
> But, unfortunately, the crisis isn’t going away any time soon, and leaving this unfinished has been bothering me, so I hope you can forgive me for getting back to work on it again. Please know the title has meaning to the story, which, in turn, has nothing to do with the virus situation whatsoever. I would never make light of that. That said, I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy, and I appreciate you checking out my work!

✨🌗✨

The sun gleamed bright on the surface of the water, and yet, it was bracingly cold when Sanji hit, the girl’s scream cutting off a second before he too found himself plunging into a hurricane of bubbles. It was all he could do to keep a tight grip on her arm as he thrashed and flailed through his own panic, in desperate search of air.

He found it, or rather, it found him, his head breaking the surface after a few seconds with a loud gasp. He yanked the girl against him, pulled her up too, and she instantly flung arms tightly around his neck. Of course, her weight only managed to shove him back under again, and he kicked hard with any hope of keeping them afloat.

Fuck, why hadn’t he learned to swim? Why hadn’t he at least tried to teach himself during those fleeting days at the lake as a child, barely a memory now, save for the soft texture of his mother’s dress which he’d stubbornly glued himself to.

He could have helped the girl now, could have propelled them to safety easily, but all he could do was— _fuck_ —flounder and flail in a fruitless fight for air that was— _shit._

Why hadn’t he just—?

His siblings had splashed and roughhoused in the water...that was why… Fear.

Another moment of air as he bobbed above the surface, followed by a choked gasp that turned to spluttered coughing as soon as a gulp of water flooded his mouth.

The water was moving them, pushing them along too swiftly. Sanji felt his bow slide off his shoulder in the chaos, but he couldn’t catch it before the current swept it away. His crutch—his feeble facade of strength. Gone, quickly as the air that barely reached his lungs.

He caught a glimpse of the bridge growing smaller in the distance before he slipped under again to the sound of the girl’s frantic cries as she struggled to hold onto him and push herself up.

He let out air too soon and his lungs began to burn, unable to break the surface in time.

His body screamed to inhale, but what was left of his meager willpower prevented it vehemently, even if the churning water seemed eager to flood his throat.

He couldn’t tell right from left, forward from backward. His feet couldn’t reach the bottom, and his free arm could only flap uselessly against the current until—

_SMACK!_

His back bumped hard against a solid surface, one his hand scrambled for automatically, despite his shock, clamping, by some miracle, onto what felt like a rope that scraped and burned over his palm. He gave an immediate strong tug fueled by pure adrenaline, and they surfaced again, this time with truly desperate inhales.

It was indeed a rope, hanging fortuitously from an empty shop boat, docked along the canal’s edge, and Sanji held onto it tightly, limbs shaking against the water that tried hard to drag him off again.

The girl was crying through her panicked huffs of breath, and he couldn’t even soothe her properly, could only pant out, _“Grab it!”,_ urging her to take hold of the rope herself.

She did, tears flowing, but her teeth gritted with surprising focus as her small hands let go of Sanji’s shoulders to grip on.

 _“Pull yourself up!”_ he hissed, mortified, even through his own panic, that he could do nothing more than bark orders, lacking the proper leverage to lift her out of the water himself.

Still, she nodded, tears mixing over her face, her arms already straining to do just that and grab hold of the boat’s railing, which was close, yet still just out of reach.

The blond did his best to hold the rope taut, closing his eyes for a moment and forcing himself to crawl back to his senses, calming his breaths and eventually opening eyes again to survey his surroundings.

The stone wall where the boat’s bow nosed, sloping down into the water from the walkway above, frustratingly devoid of anyone who could help them...

The boat, tilting towards them under the girl’s weight, slippery wood squeaking under her bare feet which she braced against the side as she climbed, sandals lost in the water...

And an orange glint beneath the surface as Sanji’s own bare feet brushed against something terribly cold and terrifyingly large...

An automatic yelp of fear, embarrassing, but mostly damning as his body jolted in surprise and fingers slipped from the rope, the girl’s frantic cry of, “It’s okay—it’s just—!” cutting itself off as the water muffled her voice and pulled him under again.

Thrashing anew, his shoulder scraped painfully against the hull of the boat, blocking the surface above him with its broad form, and he felt it again, the pathetic terror in his chest, just as he remembered from the forest. That moment that he’d been so sure was death’s embrace coming to take him at last.

And when he risked opening his eyes, there was _something_ massive still looming beneath him, its colors bright as fire in the murky water. Its shape slunk slowly, stealthily, and its eyes were blank orbs.

He didn’t move, despite his every instinct, the water like dense foliage now, the boats a dark canopy above him that offered no shelter or safety, not even air.

Clouds of sediment obscured the creature’s full form, displaced only by its gaping maw that approached him like a void, cavernous enough to capture his entire body.

What was it? It didn’t matter, for his breath had left him of its own accord, his heart slamming full force against his ribs, his body quaking violently with the urge to inhale.

Just as the first gulp of water began to gush past his lips and his vision grayed around that approaching monster, a hand, an unmistakable human _hand_ slammed itself over his mouth, a sudden dam that stopped him from inhaling.

A sturdy arm circled his waist from behind, and his limp body followed easily when he found himself dragged by something stronger than the current.

It was something warm, and it was something very _angry_ when Sanji’s head finally broke the surface again, the base instinct to _stay there_ leaving him scrambling blindly against the solid form that held him.

 _“You idiot!”_ his rescuer gritted out in a familiarly gruff voice, barely keeping his head above the water too. “Hold onto me— _fuck!_ Don’t pull me down! Stop— _fighting!”_

Rationality returned only after Sanji’s frantic gasps slowed and his front slapped hard into a broad wall of sleek _scales._

Even in his state, he’d know that surface anywhere. His hands had ached to prepare every kind that inhabited the oceans, taste every flavor they had to offer.

Yes, the monster he’d seen underwater that now bobbed at the surface before them was an enormous _fish,_ surely as big as a whale, those giant sea creatures Sanji had only read about in books.

It was at least the same size as the boat that had nearly been his savior to begin with, and it was something he couldn’t focus on for long as a hand fisted in the back of his robe and urged him to crawl onto its back.

“Climb _up_ —come on, I’ll drop you if you don’t— _move,_ Curly Brow! How the fuck can you not swim?”

That stern voice again, a barely registered insult, and Sanji forced himself to brace hands against the gentle slope of the fish’s back, the creature’s fanlike fins slowly swishing in place.

His sopping robe weighed him down significantly, but he finally managed to get a knee up, crawling his way out of the water until he flopped onto his stomach atop the wide expanse of scales, feeling, absurdly in his situation, like a fish out of water as he panted heavily.

A splash behind him, and his eyes opened briefly to see none other than Zoro settling opposite him on the fish’s back, the swordsman’s own back stubbornly turned away from Sanji as he pulled his arms free from the soaking sleeves of his robe.

His swords followed, the man slipping them from his sash and into his lap, presumably for inspection.

Zoro said nothing more, just sat there as if he’d ridden a giant fish thousands of times, looking far too comfortable atop the splatter of orange and white scales.

The blond stared, almost comforted, oddly, by the sight of Zoro’s broad shoulders, moving with his own heavy breaths, dark and defined against the sun overhead. Water slid steadily down contoured muscles that were far more rendered than Sanji’s own, which still quivered from exertion.

He should have thanked him. And yet, that ‘thank you’ died on his lips for the moment, his mouth feeling dry as a desert, despite the ordeal he’d just escaped.

Again, _again,_ the swordsman had saved him, and the uncomfortable thought that this was becoming far too frequent stood out almost as prominently as the dip of Zoro’s tense spine, sharply berating Sanji for being far _weaker_ than the man sitting before him.

“Zoro!”

Another voice tore his attention away, thankfully, and Sanji finally pushed himself up to see the girl running along the top of the wall of the canal, bare feet slapping against stone, looking like a green hummingbird flitting towards them against the backdrop of houses.

Small hands struggled to hold up her wet robe, but she managed, stopping at the canal’s edge with a breathlessly relieved smile on her face.

Zoro shifted, laying his swords behind him on the fish’s back and called out, “Jump,” stretching arms to beckon her.

She didn’t hesitate, merely backed up a few steps on the walkway, then sprinted forward to leap over the edge, only a slight squeak of fear leaving her as she fell the short distance towards the water below.

She never hit, as Zoro caught her easily, the fish beneath them dipping slightly with the added weight, but still hovering idly, almost obediently, in place.

Immediately, she scrambled from his grasp, the swordsman with a frown on his face as she crawled onto the fish’s head where she knelt, curling over to press her forehead to the fish’s skin in front of Sanji, bowing before him.

“Thank you! Thank you!” she huffed profusely, the flowers and clips that had held up her meticulous hairdo now dripping free. “I’m sorry! I didn’t—I just needed rice, but—”

The blond shifted to kneel as well, pushing at his wet locks, _trying_ to pull himself together when he felt no more composed than the child.

“Are you okay?” he asked, though her eyes stayed clenched shut, refusing to look at him despite his attempts to meet her gaze.

“I-I’m fine,” she mumbled, her voice shaky. “But—”

“Talk later,” Zoro interrupted, his tone softer than before as he nudged her shoulder gently until she straightened again, wiping self-consciously at her leaking eyes.

“Tell it to get us out of here first,” the swordsman mumbled, and when Zoro jerked his chin at the very creature keeping them afloat, Sanji had to furrow his brow in confusion.

But the girl seemed to think nothing of the strange request as she merely gave a few lingering sniffles and nodded, shifting to face forward, lifting a hand to rub again at her cheek—

Except no. It wasn’t to rub—

Sanji’s eyebrows shot up when those small fingers pinched her own cheek, stretching out the fair skin, more, more, more than was humanly _possible_ until, with a tiny burst of wispy light, from her cheek sprang a small doughy ball that she tossed into the water to be quickly consumed by the fish’s gaping mouth.

The girl leaned down closer, giving the fish’s head a gentle pat.

“Take us to Amigasa,” she said, and to add to Sanji’s bewilderment, the fish _listened._

Fins gave a very conscious pump, and suddenly, they were moving upstream with purpose, fast enough that Sanji nearly slipped right back into the water in pure shock.

He shouldn’t have been surprised. He was fully aware Seals existed, of course, but with his siblings as the only destructive examples he knew….with their haughty attacks that had so loved to use him as target prac—

Just as roughly, a hand he was growing all too familiar with grabbed his collar and tugged him from his spiraling thoughts, thoughts that seemed to fall into darkness so _fucking_ easily now. But how could they not when bruises were still only days old, when he _knew_ the feeling of a fist’s violence all too well.

So he flinched at the rough treatment. He couldn’t help it, even when Zoro’s hand merely pulled him up farther onto the fish’s back to prevent him from falling. He flinched and roughly tore himself free on instinct alone, only to be met with Zoro’s own wide-eyed surprise for a moment, the swordsman clearly caught off-guard.

But Zoro soon let his hovering hand fall back to his lap awkwardly, and he looked away.

Sanji too averted eyes, embarrassed by his reaction, though his gaze tentatively flicked back a mere second later.

There was blood on Zoro’s robe, he noticed, blossoming brightly like a watercolor over the white fabric that hung at his waist.

“You’re bleeding,” Sanji noted, almost monotone. The first real thing he’d said to the swordsman since his rescue, and it was far from gratitude. Was his own pride that stubborn?

The swordsman blinked, frowned, then glanced down at himself as if realizing for the first time.

“Not my blood,” he eventually mumbled with a shrug.

“Are you sure?” Sanji pressed, though his concern was met with an obnoxious roll of eyes.

“Worry about yourself first,” Zoro muttered, his gaze landing on Sanji’s shoulder, where Sanji was almost surprised to find the pinkish red tint of blood saturating his own robe. The skin beneath stung, he realized, with the recognizable pain of a bad brush burn.

Was he an idiot for not noticing until now?

No….he’d merely...

“Had worse,” he muttered in response with a nonchalant shrug of his own.

Again, the slightest flash of surprise crossed the swordsman’s face, though he swiftly buried it behind stoicism once more.

He didn’t reply, and Sanji was honestly glad. It seemed he was finally getting it through his thick head that Sanji did _not_ want to speak about his past….even if, for a split second, the blond longed for some genuine concern.

But that was a rarity in his life.

His life….which somehow still coursed through his veins despite every reason he had to be dead.

This country seemed determined to kill him, and yet, Zoro seemed determined to prevent that…

It was horrible, to owe such a lout, when for so long, Sanji hadn’t _cared_ if he lived or died. He didn’t matter to anyone. Still didn’t. Not enough that his death would have any significant impact on the world.

Death was like that. His mother had gone, and the world still turned, even if his own had crashed to a halt without her…

The smooth forward movement of the fish beneath them made the silence almost peaceful, the houses lining the canal drifting by lazily. The water glistened; a tall crane coasted low, keeping pace with them ahead; Zoro’s breathing was measured as he examined his swords once more.

And Sanji’s voice was soft when he spoke.

“Zoro,” he murmured.

He felt a little less foolish for flinching so violently under Zoro’s touch when his voice alone seemed to shock the swordsman just as much, his dark eyes widening before flitting back to fix on Sanji over his shoulder with that familiar wariness.

The blond’s next word came out more easily than expected.

“Thanks.”

Sunlight (surely it was sunlight) dusted Zoro’s cheeks, reddening them.

His nod in response was subtle, but visible before he looked away.

Sanji’s heart thudded with lingering adrenaline.

Surely it was adrenaline.

* * *

For as unbelievable as Sanji felt the sight was—three people floating up the canal as casually as one could on the back of a giant fish—they traveled rather inconspicuously. The few passersby that shuffled along the walkways lining the water had spared mere glances before continuing on their way, those manning boats doing the same.

Was this a common sight in Wano?

No one pursued them; no one questioned them; no one accompanied them aside from that lone crane that seemingly waited at every bend.

And no one told Sanji what awaited them as buildings grew more and more scarce, the passing shade of bridges overhead becoming less and less frequent. The stone walls of the canal eventually dropped off until the water morphed into a natural river that carried them away from the town, rippling through lush fields that shook in anticipation of a harvest.

Sanji had told the empress he wanted to explore….and he supposed this certainly counted, despite their journey taking them into the countryside, unexpectedly.

The girl had said a name. Amigasa? A person? A place?

Perhaps he could have asked her, but she’d fallen quiet during the journey, settled by herself on the fish’s head, her introspective gaze fixed steadfastly on the water ahead of them. Zoro too was silent, watching the shrinking Capital behind them.

It felt odd to break the silence, especially when Sanji already felt like a burden as it was, so he held onto his questions, relinquishing his confusion for just the tiniest bit of trust as the fish continued its steady swim upstream.

The river twisted through those fields for some time until, ahead, Sanji noticed something new. A forest loomed, but, as with so many sights in Wano, it was full of unfamiliar nature, trees that looked almost manmade, towering to the sky in long, thin poles of a bright, vibrant green. Their tiny leaves bloomed at the canopy, the forest oddly uniform with its lack of criss-crossing branches, but no less dense.

Sanji hadn’t realized the fish was slowing until they came to a complete stop at the edge of the forest, where the water began to narrow and climb a slight incline. Clearly, their massive carrier could progress no further.

The girl was already murmuring thanks to the fish, patting its head sweetly as if it could truly understand her, and, as Sanji thought back to her apparent powers, maybe it could.

Zoro had gotten to his feet and jumped the distance from the fish’s back to the grassy river bank with ease, surprising Sanji yet again with his nimbleness. He turned back, reaching out for the girl, catching her hands when she leaped for him and swinging her onto the bank as well.

Sanji couldn’t help but watch the scene for a moment, watch the swordsman pat the girl’s back and nudge her up the hill, his actions natural and soft, and her smile was bright when she looked back at him, completely comfortable despite the man’s stoic demeanor. Clearly (and rather inexplicably), the guy had a way with children.

Zoro’s eyes met his then, the blond quickly blinking and looking away to conceal the fact he’d been fixated for a few seconds too long.

The swordsman said nothing though, just stood there expectantly, so Sanji pushed up to his feet too, hoping he didn’t slip on the fish’s scales.

He managed, thankfully, without any embarrassing mishaps, and soon he and Zoro were walking side by side through the strange forest, following the girl, who scrambled up the hill ahead of them.

Sanji was reminded of his stroll through the Scabbards’ Compound with the Empress, watching the girl weave in and out of the pole-like trees, greeting a few birds along the way as if she knew them personally.

Except this time, there was no arm linked through his, no conversation, just Zoro’s silent but imposing presence lumbering beside him.

The blond found his gaze flicking to Zoro more than once, wondering if he would speak, wondering if he himself should speak. And when it seemed the swordsman had no intention to, Sanji took the initiative, unsure why he held the desire to fill the silence.

“So you seem to know a lot of kids,” he muttered, watching a scowl come to Zoro’s features.

“And?” Zoro huffed irritably, drawing an automatic roll of eyes from Sanji. He hadn’t even said anything remotely irritating.

“Just an observation,” the blond replied, and when Zoro still looked perturbed, he sighed. It was sad really, that he could relate so well to the defensive walls the swordsman seemed to have built around himself. They came up so easily, even in the face of casual comments.

So he added, “….I think it’s nice,” something that drew the man’s eyes back to him with a predictable flash of surprise.

Sanji shrugged when their gazes met again. “Kids get cast aside too often.”

“Come on!”

The girl’s voice ahead of them, her short form now standing at the crest of the hill, beckoning eagerly for them to catch up.

Sanji glanced back at Zoro, his lips turning up slightly, and he jerked his head for the oaf to follow before he sped up himself, lengthening his strides to climb the slight incline.

He stopped beside the girl, who tugged his still-damp sleeve when he got close enough and swept her hand out at the scene before them.

“This is Amigasa!” she exclaimed, then gave another tug to urge him down the other side of the slope towards a small village that sprawled out at the foot of the hill, visible in stripes through the tall trees.

Sanji stumbled after her in surprise, only checking briefly to make sure the swordsman was following before focusing on the path ahead.

The odd trees were giving way to even odder houses, their roofs steepled at acute angles, similar to hands in prayer, each covered with thick layers of dense _straw,_ or so it looked to Sanji. Their walls seemed to lean precariously, like plants seeking sunlight under the canopy of the forest, though it could have simply been due to the uneven terrain of the small valley. Still, Sanji couldn’t help but envision the structures as parts of the foliage themselves….

These buildings were modest compared to the ones in the Capital, some even close to dilapidated, lacking the vibrant colors and ornamentation, and it seemed the villagers were much the same. The few visible were dressed far more plainly, carrying heavy loads of resources over their heads, bundles of firewood, large clay pots, and the like.

It was far more quiet here, more peaceful, and Sanji very nearly breathed a sigh of relief, for Zoro’s sake, as they neared the bottom of the hill, finally emerging from the thinning trees onto the village’s main path.

“We all live here. It’s where we’re safe,” the girl was saying, and though Sanji wasn’t sure what she meant initially, any question he could have asked died in his throat when, suddenly, a round object went flying past them, narrowly missing Tama’s head as it rushed by, the object—a _ball,_ Sanji realized—bouncing to the ground ahead of them.

It had barely landed though before, to Sanji’s disbelief, the ball lifted itself clear off the ground, hovering at eye level for a long moment before an unseen force tugged it back through the air, almost faster than it had come.

Sanji could barely process what he’d just seen before the sound of laughter rang out behind them, followed by a trio of young boys who rushed past, one clutching the ball close to his chest.

“Sorry, Tama!” he called as they hurried away, another turning back to stick his tongue out childishly before they rounded a corner.

No sooner had that happened than Sanji heard rickety wheels approaching, his head whipping around to see a small cart loaded with wood stopping in front of a nearby house, pulled by a large horse with no driver—

And then the horse was morphing before his eyes, looking almost like a mirage as its shape undulated and straightened, coarse hair whisking away until a human _man_ stood in its place, his muscular arms setting down the cart. He stretched, gave a few twists and cracks of his back before sliding open the front door of the house and slipping inside with a call of, “I’m back!”

Voices across the street, some shirtless fishermen with baskets, their rods thrown over their shoulders as they congregated under the eaves of a nearby awning. Sanji heard them grumbling their disappointment about a fruitless haul, one holding up a meager trout with, not fingers, but five sharp _hooks_ curving around it like talons.

Sanji’s heart thundered when his eyes fell on the dark circular mark of a Seal on the man’s chest, on _each_ of the men’s chests, and he stopped short, the realization finally hitting him fully.

They had Seals too! All of them! And when his eyes quickly darted to the other villagers he could see, each of them did as well, slivers visible beneath low necklines, or plain as day over bare chests.

Had the girl really meant _all_ of them lived here?

He didn’t mean to stare, but he’d never seen this many in one place! Not even in his own country!

It was fascinating, almost more so than even the Capital’s awe-inducing scenery. How could gifts so amazing be shunned? How could they be when Sanji himself felt so damned ordinary and _powerless_ by comparison?

He knew their destructive potential. Of course he did. He’d seen it— _felt it_ —firsthand.

But still, he foolishly coveted it when all he saw was what _he_ lacked, what he’d always wanted to have….what his _father_ had always wanted him to have.

He kept his mouth shut as they walked, struggling to keep emotions at bay, keep the ugly jealousy off his face lest it be mistaken for resentment...

Sanji saw the fishermen note the girl, still leading him along, with little reaction, their conversation merely pausing when they noticed Sanji, curiosity crossing their faces.

And then they saw Zoro bringing up the rear, and it happened, same as it had in the Capital. Eyes narrowed in disdain; scowls formed; the muttering started.

Sanji couldn’t help his surprise, which slowly, despite his initial amazement, began to turn, once again, to _disgust._

Did every damn settlement in this country have something against the swordsman? And _why?_ Because of his Seal again?

It made no sense, particularly when every person Sanji saw possessed a Seal, and yet, Zoro was _still_ receiving looks.

Where panic and discomfort had arisen within him the first time in the Capital, now there was only anger bubbling within the blond, enough that he let the girl skip ahead when her hand slipped from his. Instead, he turned back to clamp his hand hard onto Zoro’s forearm, pulling him forward almost possessively, certainly protectively.

He couldn’t stop himself shooting a dirty glare of his own at the fishermen as he passed, yanking Zoro up to his other side so he wasn’t in their direct line of sight.

Zoro was protesting in his ear, grumbling for him to let go, but he didn’t the whole way down the main path, moving in front of the oaf when they passed villagers to block their view of him and leveling the bolder ones with his own sneers.

Eventually, Zoro’s arm went limp in his grasp, and he stopped his complaints, shuffling behind in silence once more.

Sanji couldn’t even fully appreciate the quaint, almost ancient beauty of the town, his blood boiling too hot, confusion and frustration for someone he barely knew clenching at his heart like a claw. He didn’t know where he’d gotten the gall to return the sneers and glares, though maybe it was the memory of the swordsman’s downcast gaze.

Maybe it was the memory of his own...

He was grateful when the girl finally slowed ahead of him, approaching a house that looked just like the rest, but had a smaller addition, a shed-like structure beside it from which billowed an overwhelming heat, a glimpse of a hellish orange fire through the dark open doorway. A blacksmith…?

There wasn’t much time to decipher what lay inside, however, before, from the taller roof of the adjoining house, a thin white crane swooped down, diving steeply towards the path in front of them. Sanji realized, with some alarm, that it was headed straight for them.

And then, just before it landed, the bird _exploded,_ drawing a jolt through Sanji’s chest and an embarrassing yelp from his throat, his hand sliding up Zoro’s arm as he stumbled back in surprise.

Long, white feathers suddenly burst forth from the bird in a flurry that started to take the shape of….a cotton robe, the creature’s body lengthening, growing thicker as that robe formed around it.

And when it landed, instead of a crane before them, there was a tall woman in a deep blue robe, her black hair pulled up in a style that resembled, to Sanji, the open petals of a flower, her features sharp and long like the inky strokes of the paintings he'd seen in the Empress' hearing room.

Instantly, she ran for the girl with an exclamation of, “Tama!”, who ran into her embrace eagerly.

Sanji could only stare, his brain still working to process the woman’s transformation, even as she moved, already ushering the girl towards the house, her long arms like wings hovering over the girl’s shoulders, worry clear on her face.

The girl paused in front of the entrance, closing her eyes and blowing out a hard breath as if preparing herself before allowing the woman to lead her inside.

Sanji didn’t move to follow right away, merely stood, rooted to the spot, until Zoro’s voice broke the silence, shattering his shock.

“Ask Hitetsu for a sword…” Zoro mumbled quietly, jerking his chin towards the house when Sanji looked his way.

Oh, right. Sanji shifted uncomfortably, the non-existent weight of his lost bow seeming to sink heavier over his shoulders as he remembered his lack of weapon. He wasn’t sure if a sword was his best option, but he had to assume it was this ‘Hitetsu’s’ house they’d arrived at.

The blond frowned as Zoro merely brushed past him though, bypassing the house entirely to move towards the side alley, a small, narrow dirt path that barely managed to separate the neighboring house.

“Aren’t you coming in?” Sanji asked immediately, and yet Zoro seemed perfectly content to avoid that door.

The swordsman didn’t even use words to reply, just gave a primitive shake of his head as if he planned to forget Sanji even existed.

Something about Zoro’s dismissive attitude didn’t sit right with Sanji, not after everything they’d, dare he think it, _been through._ It wasn’t that he wanted Zoro around, he just…. Well, a familiar face was nice to have when clearly every kind of unseen danger lurked in this damn country. And maybe he was starting to rely on the swordsman just a little...

“Will you wait…?” Sanji found himself asking, trying hard to conceal any bit of pleading from his tone, but not quite succeeding.

And disappointment unexpectedly welled within him when Zoro merely mumbled, “I got shit to do…”

And what shit was that? Sleep on another rooftop? Disturb more old ladies? He’d now seen some evidence of the man’s sword skills, but did the guy even train? He'd said he’d show Sanji the forests but it was starting to seem he'd forgotten.

Sanji’s hand darted out to grab Zoro’s arm yet again before he’d planned it, fingers clamping onto the swordsman’s warm skin. He really shouldn’t be making a habit of this, but there he was...

Immediately, Zoro’s eyes shot to his in surprise, mouth opening as if to protest, his arm tugging away slightly, but Sanji held on firmly.

“It’s a request,” the blond implored, his tone lowering as he stared back at Zoro seriously. “Will you wait? Please?”

Zoro’s chest rose visibly, confusion passing over his dark eyes for the long moment he held Sanji’s gaze. Then his lips pulled into a tighter line, and those eyes flicked away, hardening again.

But he nodded. He nodded as he pulled his arm away finally and continued past Sanji to settle on the ground, right in the dirt under the shade of the building, his outstretched leg nearly able to touch the opposite wall.

Sanji nodded too, his gaze lingering on Zoro for a moment more. Then he pushed aside the hanging cloth over the entrance and stepped into the house, unsure what to make of the way Zoro’s fingers continued to brush at the spot he’d grabbed.

* * *

Stepping into the shade of the interior, it was instantly cooler, a refreshing breeze somehow ghosting through the room he entered upon.

It was a large room, and it was open, Sanji realized, with door panels slid aside on either end, letting in that breeze and its accompanying sunlight, which washed over the smooth straw mats, similar to those in Sanji’s guest room in the Capital.

A stove pit sat in the center of the room, its embers flickering around an iron teapot nestled within the coals, a chimney pipe extending upward through the ceiling, and there was a low table to the side. Other than that, the room was empty, save for the three figures knelt on the floor nearby, one of which was receiving a thorough scolding, by the looks of it.

“You said...not to use my Seal anymore for food, so I thought I…” the young girl whimpered, her head bowed nearly to the mats in apology in front of an old man, one whose appearance visibly startled the blond.

The man was short and stocky, his build much like Kawamatsu’s, dressed simply in a robe, tunic, and vest tied around his broad stomach, his chest covered, long white hair slicked back over his head. His body alone should not have been so imposing…

But it was the strangely fearsome, crimson mask he wore on his face, its exaggerated features twisted into a permanent grimace, angry lips and eyebrows carved into the surface in bright yellow strokes.

Sanji sincerely hoped this wasn’t the Hitetsu he sought.

“W-We needed rice,” the girl continued, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. “But...I know money is—”

“I told you not to waste your energy on _him,”_ the old man said gruffly, and Sanji shuddered instinctively, even if the scolding was not directed at him. “You’re going to run yourself dry if you keep leaving dangos for that damned samurai. Not to mention it’s dangerous if you’re discovered in the Capital.”

“He saved me though…” the girl muttered, slowly lifting her head to look up at the man. “And I just want to help him…”

The man didn’t seem convinced. In fact, this statement only served to irritate him further, evident, if not on his hidden facial features, then in his slowly clenching fists, his shoulders tensing.

“The only help he needs is a swift push out of the kingdom,” he growled. “Anyone fraternizing with Orochi is not to be—”

No. Not this again. Not about Zoro.

For all Sanji’s unease at this man’s presence, he summoned a bit of conviction and cleared his throat pointedly, interrupting the man, who turned his head towards him for the first time, along with the girl and the woman, as if they’d only just noticed his entrance.

Sanji forced himself to stare into the man’s eyes, at those dark holes carved out of the mask’s pupils.

“It’s my fault,” Sanji said, as levelly as he could manage. “I knocked into a man and spilled his rice. She just happened to be nearby, and the ruffian attacked her. Zoro fought him off.”

He saw the girl’s eyebrows raise, though she didn’t contest his untrue story.

“And who are you?” the man predictably asked, and Sanji saw his head dip, as if he’d taken note of his Seal-less chest.

“Just a bystander,” Sanji replied hastily. “It doesn’t matter.”

“He saved me too, Grandpa!” the girl cried, whipping her head back to the old man. “But he lost his bow… We don’t have any extras, do we?”

A flash of surprise shot through the blond at the word ‘grandpa’, but at least now his suspicions were confirmed. This was very likely the man Zoro had indicated, if he indeed had a stock of weapons. And Sanji was becoming increasingly sure that any request of a stranger’s would not be met with much hospitality.

“It’s not necessary,” Sanji immediately protested, almost out of habit, but certainly in the face of the man’s gruff attitude. “I can—”

“Sit down, boy, you’re bleeding.”

His mouth snapped shut at the old man’s rebuke, discomfort filling him once more under the man’s scrutinizing attention.

A tense moment followed, but perhaps it was only in Sanji’s mind, because eventually, the man let out a long-suffering sigh and shuffled his way past his granddaughter, crossing the room to the front door. He slipped into a pair of wooden sandals that towered inches higher than any Sanji had seen yet, his billowing robe draped over his shoulders like a pair of wings.

“I’m a swordsmith, not a bowyer,” he grumbled under his breath, followed by another string of near unintelligible complaints as he passed through the hanging cloths and left the house.

Sanji stared after him for a moment until he became aware of two more sets of eyes on him, forcing him to turn back to see the girl’s owlish gaze studying him.

“You don’t have a Seal…” she finally murmured quietly. “Why did you help me?”

He looked at her, saw nothing _but_ a little girl, another human, and it hurt to see the pain of his own childhood reflected on this kid’s face. The fear of rejection…

But he pushed back any ill-timed memory that could have overcome him, instead giving a shrug, his lips turning up slightly.

“You were in trouble,” he answered simply. “Whether you have one or not doesn’t matter to me.”

He wasn’t expecting the tears that filled her dark eyes, certainly not the hug that tackled him after she scrambled to her feet and dove across the floor mats to him, but he accepted it, his bewilderment slowly disappearing as his own arms tightened around her.

“My name’s Tama,” she mumbled into his waist, their first proper introduction, even if he’d heard her name called earlier.

“I’m…” And though he hesitated for a moment, he found it far easier this time to finish with his real name. “Sanji,” he said, a genuine smile coming to his face.

The girl giggled, squeezing him harder as if she’d known him all her life before finally releasing him to scamper back over to the woman, who’d moved to the edge of the room, opening a low cabinet to rummage inside.

“Did you see? Did you see? He doesn’t care about my Seal!” Tama chirped excitedly, something that drew a warm smile to the woman’s red lips as the girl flitted around her, the image of a small hummingbird once again coming to Sanji’s mind.

“I saw,” the woman murmured in reply, her eyes flicking knowingly to Sanji before handing the girl a ceramic basin she pulled from the cabinet. “Please fill this with warm water.”

Tama nodded eagerly, already tearing towards the front door, barely slowing when the woman called, “Carefully!” after her.

Her eyes were back on Sanji then, her pale hand gesturing him over to where she knelt, still as elegant as the crane she'd transformed from.

He obliged, slowly lowering himself to the floor in front of her, her hand reaching out to take his.

“My name is Tsuru,” the woman said, covering his hand with her other, both clasping his gently. “I thank you and Sir Green for protecting Tama. I am in your debt.”

He smiled, rather soothed by her soft tone and touch, and rather amused at Zoro’s nickname.

“It was nothing….” he answered automatically. “Are you Tama’s….?”

“Mother?” she guessed, but shook her head. “No. Merely a friend.”

And it was the pensive way her lips turned up that left Sanji wondering if perhaps everyone in this country had lost their parents…

He couldn’t linger on the thought for long though before Tsuru’s hands had left his to land on his shoulder, her fingers already prying open his collar, coaxing him to shrug out of the fabric.

He did, with some discomfort, the brush burn on his back throbbing anew at the aggravation. He struggled to keep the pain off his face.

A minute of quiet examination, then the woman backed off, Sanji taking that moment to instantly pull up his robe, though she tapped him scoldingly.

“Please wait,” she said, and he reluctantly obliged, slumping shoulders once more as she went in search of tools.

It wasn’t long before she’d returned though, kneeling down behind him once more with the water basin Tama re-entered with, along with a cloth and a roll of white bandages.

The warm cloth eventually met his back, sending a stinging pang through the scraped skin, but the woman’s touch was still gentle as feathers, the pressure light as she dabbed away the blood.

It was a familiar touch, motherly hands tending to his wound, and Sanji closed his eyes the instant they began to burn, the threat of tears sudden and painful. He wanted his mother’s soft humming, her smile, attempts to cheer him up, remedy not only his injuries, but his spirit, every time he found himself on the receiving end of his brothers’ abuse.

She was gone. He had to remind himself of that, but he wasn’t sure which was more painful, the fact that this was a stranger, not his mother….or the indulgence of pretending it wasn’t.

Sanji cleared his throat, forced himself to ignore the soothing feeling altogether, simply sat blankly as that cloth turned to bandages, the woman’s fingers brushing his skin now and again as she maneuvered them under his armpit and over his shoulder to cover the wound.

He stared hard at the opposite wall, focusing on the pots and utensils hanging there, doing his best to turn off his mind until Tsuru finished, something that wasn’t too hard to do considering the wave of exhaustion that washed over him, the chaos of the morning catching up to him.

He didn’t feel comfortable drifting off here though, so his gaze eventually hardened, the blond forcing himself to speak.

“What was your grandpa talking about?” he said over his shoulder when Tama appeared in his peripheral, crouching down to remove the water basin, the clear liquid now tinted pink with blood. “If you’re short on food, I can show you a few recipes to make it last longer.”

“We have plenty! That's my power!” she chirped cheerfully. Sanji wondered if all the children in Wano were as upbeat as the two girls he’d met. To him, it was still a mystery how they could be.

“Your power…” Sanji repeated quietly as Tama slipped out the front door again briefly, the sound of water splashing on the dirt ground following soon after.

She stepped back inside a moment later, still wearing a smile, her cheeks plump, and the image of her fingers pulling a doughy ball from her skin flashed through his mind again.

“I can tame animals too if I feed them!” she said, setting the bowl by the entrance and lowering herself to the floor mats again.

“So you called the fish?” Sanji guessed, remembering how the giant beast had seemed to _listen_ to her, following her directions as if it understood.

She nodded eagerly, not taking her gaze from Sanji, even as Tsuru moved across the room to her, the woman’s fingers now working to tame Tama’s disheveled hair. Sanji wasn’t sure her efforts would be as effective as Tama’s taming of the fish.

“And you’ve been giving food to Zoro?” Sanji guessed, remembering Hitetsu’s apparent disapproval of such.

“Yes...” the girl muttered, her eyes flicking to the doorway, as if her grandfather would come back at any moment.

Sanji couldn’t help but snort, imagining Zoro hovering for scraps in the street like some stray animal.

“Yet he was so keen on advertising how _resourceful_ the people of Wano were…” the blond mumbled quietly. “Meanwhile, he’s accepting free hand-outs from a little girl...”

“Sir Green is not from Wano originally,” Tsuru added, still focused on Tama’s hair, now fully unraveled from its previous style as the woman combed her fingers through gently.

It was surprising to hear, especially when Zoro seemed to be the very _embodiment_ of Wano, at least to Sanji. If he wasn’t from Wano, where was he from…?

“It was Kaido who brought him here, as a boy,” Tsuru answered a moment later, something that shut down anything Sanji could have expected.

His heart clenched hard at the words.

“Really…?” he replied, his widening gaze meeting hers when she shot a glance his way.

“Yes,” she said as she began to pull Tama’s hair back in an intricate style. “After the attack on the Capital, Kaido abandoned him.”

Suddenly, a cog clicked into place in Sanji’s mind. The looks in the street. Kawamatsu’s animosity. Maybe this was the real reason… But why the hell had he been with Kaido to begin with?

“So the blatant hatred for him…” Sanji eventually murmured, focusing on the swift movement of Tsuru’s pale fingers, a whirlwind that left clean twists and braids in their wake. “I thought it was because of his Seal. But if he’s associated with Kaido...”

Tsuru merely nodded, her hand extending to Tama, who lifted a floral hair clip off the floor and placed it in her hand.

“To those in the Capital,” the woman said. “I believe Sir Green represents the loss of the royal family, and the ever-looming threat of Kaido’s power. Unfortunately, that prejudice has spread to _all_ with Seals in the years since the attack. That’s why we were forced to leave the Capital and settle here.”

“That was hardly his fault, especially if he was so young!” Sanji shot back almost instantly, in defense of the man yet again because he still had yet to see any justification for the contempt. “Shouldn’t those of you with Seals support him? He was getting looks even here!”

“It may not have been his fault,” Tsuru admitted, securing a few clips before moving to the other side of Tama’s head. “But from our perspective, to many with Seals, he signifies the beginning of our oppression. There are those distrustful of his continued subservience to the Empress. They wonder about his true motives.”

“So you think he’s still loyal to Kaido too,” Sanji replied, deadpan. “Has no one thought to ask him?!”

“I am merely explaining the popular sentiment,” she said calmly, seeming to sense his growing frustration. “It is not only him the people worry about. There were other pirates left behind after Kaido’s massacre. Including the Orochi mentioned by Hitetsu.”

Still. How could a child share the viewpoints of a deadly pirate warlord? Especially if Kaido had abandoned him. Zoro had been cast aside long ago, and dammit, why was it the same? Why could Sanji feel his own past rearing its ugly head in parallel fashion, and why was it _Zoro_ who seemed to share his experience?

How had he known...somehow...that Zoro understood…?

“The Empress trusts Zoro…” Sanji found himself muttering after a quiet minute, and dammit, he almost felt like he was defending himself now, justifying his own existence through the guise of Zoro’s.

Zoro seemed to think Sanji's existence was justified. He’d continually saved his life, after all...

“And I trust—”

He paused, his own apparent trust of the swordsman nearly spilling out far too quickly for his liking, certainly quicker than his mind could process. So he amended his statement.

“—her judgment,” he continued, and he didn’t elaborate. If he admitted to his friendship with the Empress, his own origins might come into question. And how would that be received?

Instead, Sanji implored, “Please do not direct your anger at the Empress… I can’t imagine it’s her wish to perpetuate the discrimination.”

Thankfully, despite his careful words, the woman smiled slightly, giving one last pat to Tama’s finished hair before she settled her hands primly in her lap and shifted to face him fully.

“I know this,” she replied. “Hitetsu knows this as well.” Her back straightened then, almost proudly. “My husband served the Kozuki family for many years as one of their most trusted samurai. I feel true dismay, witnessing what has become of our once united country…” Her voice quieted. “As I’m sure my husband would as well, had he not fallen during Kaido’s attack…”

Sanji wilted, familiar sorrow washing over him, even if he knew nothing of this woman’s husband. “I’m sorry…”

But she shook her head, determination the only visible emotion in her eyes.

“Do not be,” she replied, lips turning up in reassurance. “I only hope there can come a day when Wano can live in harmony once more. I have faith…”

“You do…?” Sanji asked, feeling his eyebrow lift, if not in skepticism, then certainly in surprise. Even the Empress and her retainer had seemed rather resigned about their country’s fate.

But Tsuru seemed sure of herself, her gaze unexpectedly fixed on _him,_ as if _he_ was the reason for her faith. And soon enough, she confirmed it.

“Yes,” she said. “Because good still exists in this world. Someone like you has come along.”

Automatically, despite her words, Sanji frowned. What made _him_ special? What stood out about him during their very brief acquaintanceship that was so “good,” as she said? He supposed his way of thinking didn’t align with the typical Wano citizen’s, but what power could he possibly have to affect things here, in a country he barely knew?

Her smile was somehow knowing though, and he suddenly felt rather exposed, as if this woman could see straight through him and knew, if not of his family, then of his struggles. Knew him better than he perhaps knew himself. She couldn’t know who he really was, could she?

Tsuru gave no indication either way though, and Sanji found himself glad when a grumbling voice interrupted the silence, saving him from any further questioning or forced explanations.

Through the front doorway came Hitetsu, stepping down from his tall sandals and crossing the mats with something unexpected in hand: a sword, its sheath dark blue, the hilt wrapped tightly in a similarly hued fabric.

The thing was long and intimidating and _heavy_ when the man passed it directly into Sanji’s arms, the blond fumbling to grab ahold of it in his surprise.

“No bows here,” the man muttered. “Take it or leave it.”

Sanji gaped down at the weapon, noting its slight curve, the tassels wrapped around the sheath, which he saw, upon closer inspection, was etched with a sprawling pattern of angry waves crashing in the sea.

It was beautiful, a work of art in itself, and one Sanji knew he had no hope of wielding, not as it _should_ be wielded.

A memory flashed through his mind of a similar moment, himself as a boy nearly falling over under the weight of the enormous broadsword his father had shoved at him, some terrible hope on his menacing features that Sanji would be able to use it with the same raw power as his siblings.

Of course he hadn’t been able to. Of course he wouldn’t be able to now.

But he found himself nodding, accepting the weapon. For now at least… Until he could find another bow. Perhaps the Empress had one…

And yet for a second, he shared his father’s past hope, that maybe he could learn how to use the blade…

After all, hadn’t Zoro agreed to stick around…?

* * *

Still, it felt far too foreign, almost inappropriate, for him to be holding such a weapon. He certainly felt like an imposter, the weight of the blade drooping awkwardly at his side, hitting his leg when he eventually exited the house some time later, having thanked the gruff Hitetsu, as well as Tsuru and Tama, who’d insisted he stay for a cup of tea at least before he left.

They’d graciously offered him a new pair of sandals, the girl squeezing him tight for another hug, then let him go on his way.

A few curses escaped him as soon as he was outside, directed at the blade itself, the blond shoving at the cumbersome sword’s hilt, fingers fumbling to tie his sash tighter as he stepped out onto the dirt road once more, when a gravelly voice caught his attention.

“Did you get him? Let me guess. He got thrown in the dungeon, and Kawamatsu’s singing your praises—!”

Sanji’s eyes slunk to the neighboring gap between the houses, noting the owner of the voice crouched on the dirt near the opening, his features rather piglike, sneering toothily as he spoke, purple spikes of hair wild atop his head, gathered in a fluffy topknot.

The blond wasn’t even surprised when his eyes next locked with Zoro’s, the familiar swordsman tucked inside the mouth of the alley, where he still sat on the ground, lounging back casually against the wall.

The mosshead hardly seemed perturbed to see Sanji, despite the hushed tone of his conversation partner, who quickly let out a disgruntled noise of shock when Zoro merely pointed at the blond lazily.

“They were friends, he and the Empress. No way he’s seeing any dungeon,” Zoro replied, and Sanji now knew exactly who had been the topic of conversation.

 _Himself,_ the swordsman’s piercing eyes not leaving his for an instant....

The blond felt a prickling of discomfort shoot through him when the crouching man’s shock upon seeing him turned to discernible contempt, features scrunching into a glare, his pointed mustache like a second set of angry eyebrows over his clenched teeth.

It set Sanji’s heart thudding faster, the familiar desire to remove himself quickly from the situation growing within him.

But that oddly scrutinizing glare lasted but a moment, the stranger’s beady eyes flicking over Sanji once more before his expression simmered back into something more detached.

“A prince of Germa? _Friends_ with the Empress…?” the man muttered, almost to himself more so than Zoro, and Sanji couldn’t help the jolt of panic that shot through him. He knew?

But the man disclosed nothing, just let out a derisive scoff before uttering, “How surprising…”

And he said no more, merely got to his feet with some effort and shot a pointed look at Zoro, his shoulders hunched. Sanji caught a glimpse of the dark Seal on his chest as the man shot back one last sneer before skulking off down the dirt road.

The blond stood his ground, despite the uncomfortable feeling in his chest, the man’s clear distaste lingering in the air, in a way Sanji hadn’t felt directed at _him_ personally since arriving in Wano.

He glared sullenly after the man’s retreating form until he turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Only then did he fix his attention back on Zoro.

“Friend of yours?” he deadpanned.

If that was the unpleasant kind of person Zoro associated with, then Sanji had to admit to a twinge of disappointment.

Yet, Zoro simply shrugged, as indifferent as ever, and the swordsman finally dropped his affecting stare to close his eyes instead, crossing arms behind his head.

“I don’t do the whole friend thing,” he said. Then, with a little more sarcasm, he added, “Not like you and Hiyori.”

And why mention that? Sanji wondered with growing irritation. He couldn’t imagine a man who was so focused on his loner reputation caring much for Sanji’s own relationships, of which he had few, thank you very much.

“I don’t do it either,” the blond shot back, feeling more defensive than pathetic in that moment, as if to prove to the brute that he didn’t need friends. “She’s the only one I ever made.”

Zoro shrugged again and replied, “Right.”

How one word could incite a rise out of him, Sanji didn’t know, but it didn’t much matter.

Zoro wouldn’t hurt him. He was quite sure of that now, and so he had no hesitation barking back, “You don’t know shit about my life.”

“So you’ve said,” Zoro mumbled, sounding almost bored, and the silence that followed was enough to leave Sanji feeling frustrated.

As if he didn’t feel stupid enough standing there, bristling with pent-up energy, while the idiot swordsman all but ignored him.

“Did you tell that man who I was? How did he know?” Sanji hissed, his voice lowering but still clouded with anger.

Hadn’t he and Zoro been making some headway towards cordiality? Or so Sanji had assumed, especially after their ordeal in the canal.

But now Zoro seemed put out by Sanji's existence again, and there was something immensely frustrating about that.

“I didn’t tell him,” Zoro said. “Orochi keeps tabs on everyone. Sure he figured it out from your wanted poster.”

Orochi… So that was the man Hitetsu so disapproved of… And Sanji couldn’t fathom how his anonymous wanted poster alone could have given him away.

A brewing discontent settled in his gut, the fear that maybe Zoro was lying to him stirring there, more painful than he wanted to admit. He hated that he’d actually _wanted_ to trust the man.

Yet Zoro stared back at him steadily now, almost daring him to question his word, and Sanji couldn’t help the feeling that he was being tested in some way, though how exactly he didn’t know.

This was probably the part when most people would walk away from him, and Zoro seemed to be highly aware of that, his expression turning steely and guarded.

Sanji knew he could have, and the day before he certainly would have. But then what…? He'd be back at square one with a promise to the Empress to uphold and no way to fulfill it.

The blond huffed, his uncomfortable need to rely on the swordsman rearing up to overtake his doubts.

“As long as he doesn’t stir shit up…” Sanji mumbled dejectedly, staring off down the road once more.

When he looked back at Zoro, the swordsman’s eyes had closed again, his brow mid-furrow, but he said nothing.

“So now what?” Sanji grumbled after a minute, quite happy to interrupt Zoro’s brooding when he received a satisfyingly annoyed frown in response.

And that frown preceded the return of Zoro’s gaze, the swordsman looking almost confused for a moment, so Sanji elaborated, for the sake of the fool’s slow mind.

“Are you still going to show me around or not?”

Zoro’s gaze instantly flicked to the sword tied to Sanji’s hip like an out-of-place limb, causing the blond to fidget self-consciously.

“I oughta teach you how to swim first…” Zoro finally muttered, though the tilt of his eyebrow had regained its persistent flash of challenge, and Sanji found himself glaring at him in lieu of the less mature eye roll he nearly responded with.

But Zoro was getting to his feet, arching his back in a languid stretch, followed by a few unsightly (surely purposeful) cracks of his neck.

“Come on,” the swordsman grunted once he seemed satisfied with the alignment of his bones.

He stepped out from the alleyway and physically shouldered past the blond, to his chagrin, despite there being plenty of space to move around him.

Sanji caught the mosshead’s gaze dropping to his new sword once more.

“And don’t curse at it,” Zoro said as he walked past. “It’s disrespectful.”

He didn’t wait for Sanji’s response, merely set off down the path. 

It took a beat, the blond staring after him for a few moments, struggling to piece together what the hell the strange man was referring to.

Until it dawned on him, once he’d stooped to the idiot’s mental capacity.

“Like it can hear me! It’s a _sword!”_ he shrieked in response.

“And you’re an idiot,” Zoro shot over his shoulder without stopping.

“What?!”

He stomped up to Zoro’s side then, making sure to jab the swordsman in the waist with the blade’s hilt.

“Teach me how to use it then,” the blond insisted, that bit of hope from earlier bubbling up within him. He also hoped it wasn’t conveyed in his tone.

From the long glare Zoro shot at him, Sanji expected a refusal…

But then the swordsman merely shoved him aside with a muttered, “Keep up,” as he continued marching on.

The blond was left with no choice but to hurry after him, struggling to keep a grin off his face, despite Zoro’s brutish bullying. Maybe now, he could properly learn to retaliate, and even that small incentive was enough.

* * *

Sanji wasn’t sure what he’d imagined when he pictured _training._ Fierce cries. Sweat. Exertion. _Something_ intense, especially when it appeared it was all the swordsman did, the man’s body practically sculpted from marble. The image of his defined muscles still stood out uncomfortably in Sanji’s brain, after all.

It certainly didn’t help that the swordsman seemed to want to _remind_ him, his bare torso still free of his robe, even if he’d dried off ages ago, though the sheen of sweat now glistened on his skin instead.

Still, these were things the blond knew he should ignore as they walked in silence, the initial bickering falling off as his mind lost its excited bravado and began to race around what might ultimately be his demise, his own lack of strength in the smug face of Zoro’s.

He wasn’t expecting to follow the swordsman from the settlement, down the worn road that quickly turned to a narrow dirt trail through the forest.

In fact, it was hardly a trail, more of a chance break in the foliage, and Sanji began to wonder if Zoro even had any direction in mind….or if they’d simply wander forever. Maybe this was training? Certainly training for his patience, at any rate...

The woods grew denser, humidity hanging heavily in the air under the midday sun that now blazed through the branches, and though it was bright, the deeper they went, the more Sanji felt paranoia creeping at the corners of his senses.

Wasn’t this the beast’s home? Weren’t they in danger going out this far? He wasn’t naive enough to assume otherwise now, and while he’d seen some proof of the swordsman’s skill against the thug in town, he couldn’t be _certain_ he was in good hands if faced again with a monstrous feline.

He slipped behind Zoro, was forced to when the almost nonexistent path narrowed, tall plants parting when the swordsman pushed them aside ahead of him, only to smack back in Sanji’s face when he moved through. Sanji was sure he was doing it on purpose, the blond’s quiet grumbles and huffs becoming more and more frequent the longer the trek went on.

Not to mention, the heat began to climb, Sanji’s hair beginning to stick to his face, the awful feeling of sweat sliding steadily down his neck and back making him tug at his own robe in discomfort. The air hung stagnant around them, no breeze for respite, and dammit, he’d known Wano was a southern kingdom, but this was ridiculous.

How could the stupid mosshead press on through this jungle without complaint? Did he enjoy trekking through this stifling heat, breathing more water than air in this damn humidity?

And when what had to be the fiftieth massive fern slapped him in the forehead, Sanji was finally about to protest _loudly._

Until he realized that was the last fern standing between him and a clearing beyond, though the canopy of leaves still speckled over the blue of the sky.

The sudden sound of rushing water grabbed Sanji’s attention almost instantly, and he realized, with some degree of surprise, that the path had brought them to the edge of an embankment where a stream bubbled and rushed with urgency. A few wooden stakes of an ancient-looking fence were all that stood between the narrow path and the steep slope that dropped to the water below them.

Zoro didn’t stop there, however, still moving steadily upstream towards, unexpectedly, a small waterfall, the water tumbling over massive boulders until it reached their level, close enough for Sanji to touch if he hopped over those giant rocks.

He must have been halfway off the path already because he felt a hand clamp down on his wrist, stopping him from moving.

“Shoes off,” Zoro said, releasing Sanji only to remove his own sandals, the blond tentatively following suit.

And Sanji saw why when the natural path beneath their feet led them to a curve in the stream where that path turned quickly to flat stone, wet stone at that, something their wooden sandals had no hope of gripping. Sanji was amazed to see a long manmade staircase suddenly stretching up over the water, the sloped chasm that surrounded them on either side of the stream twisting itself and rising up into sheer stone faces, impossible for trees to cling to.

The spray of cool water suddenly whipped over Sanji’s face in a continuous wind that replaced the humidity with a strange anticipation for what lay ahead, at the top of that staircase.

They were going there, Zoro already climbing fearlessly up a few fallen boulders and grabbing onto a stone marker built into the rock, scrawled with a vertical writing Sanji didn’t understand. It gave the swordsman leverage to swing himself up to the foot of the staircase where he paused, glancing back to stare at Sanji expectantly.

The blond huffed out a breath, wondering how the lumbering oaf could make such fluid strides. He glanced down at his own waist, at that cumbersome sword that would surely hinder him, but if Zoro could do it with such ease, then dammit, he had to try.

So he stepped up onto the first rock, and just as his hand reached for a higher one, he felt fingers grip his tightly and give a strong tug. Sanji followed the momentum, made the steps much more easily than anticipated until he stood beside Zoro, whose stoic expression didn’t change, save for an almost challenging quirk of his brow.

Then he’d released Sanji’s hand and was moving again, up that stone staircase, which stood almost carpeted in soft moss from what must have been years of disuse. Sanji wondered with a twinge of amusement if Zoro’s hair had grown green due to neglect as well.

But his amusement didn’t last long before, in its stead, a powerful gust of awe hit him, just as powerful as the misty wind that now swept through his hair as he stepped around the bend of the rock wall and mounted the stairs.

Amazingly, directly below the staircase churned a series of waterfalls, previously out of sight but now tumbling in tiers down the mountainside.

Sanji’s breath caught, and he quickly moved to the stairs’ railing to peer over the edge at the sight, letting the spray of water hit his face and the wind whip around him like a hurricane. The thrill of it brought a smile to his lips, and he was vaguely aware of the swordsman stopping a few steps above him.

Maybe he should have been surprised to see Zoro’s eyes on him when he finally glanced up, the ghost of a smirk on his face, but for some reason the swordsman’s intense gaze was becoming familiar, almost expected.

Sanji looked away in pure reflex, watching the roaring water again, but only for a moment before he found himself looking back at Zoro. He tried to contain the exhilaration on his face, but it wasn’t quite working.

“Wow,” he said simply, jerking his chin towards the sight, something that earned him a flash of teeth from the swordsman.

“There’s more,” Zoro replied over the rush of the water, and then he was climbing the stairs again, leaving Sanji with no choice but to follow, a little torn about continuing so soon. He could have stood with that view for a damn while longer.

“More?” Sanji shot back in disbelief as they ascended the stairs, reaching the flat landing, the walkway turning to continue up one last flight, this time climbing the wooded hillside.

Zoro didn’t reply or look back, merely stopped at the top ahead of him, so Sanji let out a huff, his hand gripping the mossy stone railing, hurrying up himself.

And his eyes widened when he saw, between the overhanging foliage, the scalloped roof of a tall pagoda suddenly appear, looming higher and higher the closer he came until, by the time he stood beside Zoro, the pair was dwarfed by an enormous wooden temple standing before them.

Moss clung to its pillars, vines dripping from its rooftop, the structure seemingly lost in time as the forest reclaimed it.

Sanji heard Zoro snicker, most likely at his stupidly gaping jaw, but his gaze was far too occupied with the massive statues of menacing deities that glared out at him from caged alcoves at the temple’s entrance. Their angry expressions mimicked Hitetsu’s mask, poses fierce and aggressive as if they were about to break free of their imprisonment at any moment.

“It’s the Scabbards’ temple.”

Sanji finally looked over at the swordsman, whose eyes roved over the structure too, suddenly looking far more relaxed than Sanji had seen him all day.

“They used to train here,” Zoro continued, meeting Sanji’s eye. “But it’s been abandoned for years.”

“Why…?” Sanji murmured, unsure _how_ such a magnificent place could be forgotten.

“They’re dead,” Zoro replied simply.

Oh. Right.

Sanji sighed, wondering if the conversation would take a downturn, but Zoro’s eyes were clear, a smirk even coming to his face.

“The new guard train in the Capital,” Zoro explained, flashing a broader grin as he finally brushed past the blond towards the closed doors at the foot of the temple.

“So it’s mine now,” he finished proudly, his fingers curling around the tarnished ring of gold that served as the door’s handle.

Then he gave a hard yank, somehow managing to pull open the massive door, which looked like it hadn’t budged in a hundred years, holding it in clear indication for Sanji to pass through first.

The blond did, thankful for the remnants of a walkway beneath his feet, and when he moved through, he was surprised to find, not an interior, but an overgrown courtyard, more of those strange pole-like trees and plants sprouting up from the perimeter of the packed-down sand that spread out inside the building’s walls.

And on the far end, the mountain’s slope rose up in a steep cliff from which spouted a line of stone dragon heads, water pouring from each of their mouths in a perfect row of seven small waterfalls, each falling several persons’ length to a long rock-lined pool below.

Sanji heard the door close heavily behind him, and when Zoro stepped up to his side, this time it felt strangely intimate, the two of them alone together. It was certainly quieter, and it was clear by the look on Zoro’s face that this place was special to him, perhaps far more than Sanji knew, though he could certainly relate… Hadn’t the castle kitchens always been that for him?

Sanji was beginning to get the feeling that this was a show of trust, being shown Zoro’s place of respite...

He tried not to think about the warmth in his chest at that thought.

“It’s amazing….” he breathed instead. “I’ve never seen any place like it…”

It was an admission he hadn’t allowed himself to make the day before, laying eyes upon the Flower Capital for the first time. He hadn’t wanted his own inexperience to show, for fear of what it would bring him, but for some reason, in that moment, he felt his qualms tumbling as quickly as those uniform waterfalls. He would miss this beauty when he left Wano. It was a shame he couldn’t stay.

“S’easy to forget shit here…” Zoro murmured, Sanji’s eyes flicking his way to see the swordsman nodding as if he’d seen right through to Sanji’s thoughts and understood.

The warmth inside him flared, enough that he chose to quickly stifle it, a deep breath clearing the sentimental fog clouding him.

“So _you_ train here now?” Sanji asked, noting the distinct lack of _anything_ he’d expect to see on a training ground—targets, practice dummies, armor…. _people._ The only evidence he saw was a few mutilated posts, some with bundles of straw tied to them, hacked short.

“Uh huh,” Zoro replied simply, not even sparing Sanji a glance as he set off to cross the courtyard.

“By yourself?” Sanji pressed, walking up beside him.

Zoro rolled his eyes in response, but said nothing.

“There’s hardly anything here,” Sanji clarified because, as far as he knew from his own experience, that should warrant confusion. His father’s training grounds had been elaborate….deadly...

“Obviously,” Zoro said.

“Obviously? What about—fighting?” Sanji huffed. “Cutting shit? _Combat_ practice?”

“That’s part of it.”

A _big_ part, as far as Sanji knew.

“Yeah, and that’s the part that’s going to help us go up against the monster!” he justified.

“Shut up,” Zoro snapped, shooting a glare at the blond. “You’re jittery as hell. You need to learn to calm your senses first. Or you’ll never have any hope of wielding a weapon.”

It was Sanji’s turn to roll his eyes, the swordsman’s critique hardly unexpected. He’d heard it time and time again, after all, what a damned failure he was, hopelessly timid when he should have been strong. He remembered the early days, after all, when he’d still accompanied his siblings to the training grounds.

He remembered Ichiji dodging every attack thrown at him, as if it were as easy as breathing, Niji slashing through dozens of opponents with his manic speed, Yonji crumbling brick walls with a single punch. Even Reiju would step in on occasion, felling challengers with poisonous accuracy.

They’d taken down adults more than double their size and all Sanji could do was watch and wonder why he was different, why he couldn’t muster that speed or strength….that _mercilessness._ Even in the face of punishment, of pain….he couldn’t.

He’d heard it all. He knew what he was…

And Zoro had already picked up on it.

Sanji blinked, slipping back to the present when he felt fingers clamp onto his wrist, give a tug until he realized they’d reached the line of waterfalls, Zoro standing stoically beside him.

The blond’s gaze drifted up to those stone dragons, their eyes blank but piercing, almost perceptive, as they loomed over him. Were they judging him too?

“There are seven virtues of a true samurai.”

Sanji glanced over to see Zoro staring up at the dragons too, glancing at Sanji for but a moment before he jerked his chin towards the dragons, above which, Sanji noticed, was a different symbol carved in the rock over each.

Sanji had no hope of deciphering them, but Zoro seemed to be able to as he continued.

“Integrity. Courage. Compassion. Humility. Honesty. Honor. And loyalty.”

Zoro’s voice was quiet, certainly reverent, and yet Sanji felt the need to scoff.

“Well, you certainly don’t embody all of them,” he muttered, but Zoro immediately shot back, “Do you?”

Of course he didn’t. At least, not as he saw himself...

Sanji’s shoulders slumped and he looked away, feeling foolish. “I…never claimed that...”

“Then keep your mouth shut,” Zoro scolded, already slipping his swords from his sash and plunking down onto the edge of the pool.

Sanji blinked at him, unsure why the hell he was settling so comfortably.

“Uh...what are you doing?” the blond asked. “Aren’t we going to train?”

“You really can’t shut up, can you,” Zoro huffed.

“I’m _curious!”_

The swordsman groaned, then fixed Sanji with a look, irritation clear on his features. “You’re impatient is what,” he muttered. A sigh followed though, and his eyes sharpened.

“Look,” Zoro said eventually. “If you’re so damn _curious_ about shit, I’ll tell you something important.”

Sanji’s eyebrows pulled down, the blond slowly moving to take a seat beside the swordsman, despite his confusion, removing his own sword and setting it down on the lip of the pool too.

As soon as he had, Zoro leaned forward conspiratorially, despite their isolation.

 _“Tama’s_ the only one who can defeat the monster,” he said, something that had Sanji draw back in shock.

“What?” he stammered, images of the little girl hacking a sword at the giant beast bursting through his mind. “Don’t tell me she’s a samurai too!”

But Zoro merely gave a long-suffering sigh and shook his head.

“Then how—” Sanji started.

“Her Seal, idiot.”

 _Oh,_ Sanji thought, his image of the child destroying demons shattering quickly, as incredible as it could have been. But still...

“Zoro, even if she can tame it, you can’t send a little kid out into the forest to take on that thing! It could kill her before she even gets the chance!”

Again, Zoro rolled his eyes, lip curling. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m still not sure _what_ you’re capable of…”

And it was true. He still knew next to nothing about this man, aside from his own intuition to trust him and the word of a few people.

But he saw the way Zoro’s shoulders slumped, his gaze turning downcast, anger seeming to slip inward instead, enough that when Sanji spoke again, his voice had automatically softened.

“That’s why she’s been giving you dumplings with her power…” he guessed. “So _you_ can feed it.”

Zoro nodded silently, breaking yet another assumption in the blond’s mind. Zoro may have been many moronic things, but he was not a freeloader. Something about that was a relief...

“So, what the fuck!” Sanji huffed, trying to catch Zoro’s gaze again, to see some of the life return to his eyes. “Just feed them to the beast and it won’t be an issue anymore! The thing will follow anything she says!”

It worked, Zoro sitting up to look at him again.

“It’s not that simple,” he justified. “It deserves to _die.”_

“Zoro, it’s an animal.”

“It kills,” Zoro retorted instantly. “It almost killed _you.”_

“Because it was hunting!” Sanji cried, tossing up hands. “It was just following its instincts!”

It was Sanji’s turn to growl under his breath. Why was killing always the answer? It always had been with his father, his siblings. Was he the strange one? Was it strange, in this world, to want to _preserve_ life?

Maybe that was why he so often felt he didn’t belong… Clearly this wasn’t the world he was meant to inhabit if these were the morals that abounded.

“I don’t believe wild animals have bloodlust,” he continued after a minute. “That’s a human thing. Or....a _you_ thing.”

Zoro just gave an exasperated sigh, and why was the swordsman even fighting this so hard? He had to know… He didn’t _want_ Zoro to be that callous.

“If there’s no reason to slaughter it, then why slaughter it?” Sanji pressed, and he was surprised when Zoro replied. Not by his words, but by his tone.

“Everyone wants it dead!” he said. “It could still hurt people!” 

His voice was tired, almost _pleading,_ and there was an unexpected pain in his eyes that made something click into place in Sanji’s mind. Because he recognized that look, or, at least, he thought he did, and suddenly, the thought became tangible….that Zoro’s history with this beast might be more than he’d originally let on.

Had he lost someone too…?

“If Tama’s power can tame it, then that’s how I want to defeat it,” Sanji replied slowly after a minute. _“I’m_ certainly not bloodthirsty.” Of course there was the fact that he _couldn’t_ physically defeat it, but he chose not to focus on that.

Zoro’s brow furrowed slightly, his mouth working for words for a moment.

When he replied, his voice had quieted.

“You’re not...scared of it…?” he asked, fixated intently on Sanji as if his answer was somehow important.

“Of course I am,” the blond assured, resisting the urge to pull a face, not wanting to upset the man further. “Because I don’t want to be mauled to shreds and eaten, thank you. But there are scarier things out there.”

“Like…?” Zoro prompted.

“Do you really need examples?” Sanji shot back.

Receiving nothing but a glare in return, Sanji turned up his palms.

“What I just said,” he continued. “Humans. Humans with bad intentions. You of all people should know that.”

“And how do _you_ know that?” Zoro asked carefully, and they were back to this, it seemed, back at the precipice of Sanji’s history that he’d so far shied away from.

The swordsman’s insistence was subtle, but persistent nonetheless, and for the first time since arriving in Wano, Sanji decided to allow that persistence to punch through, if only a small amount. After all, he remembered what Tsuru had told him about Zoro’s past…. He remembered that perhaps they had more in common than he’d believed possible.

The first brick of his wall fell.

“Germa is not a nice place,” Sanji muttered simply.

“But you’re a _prince—”_

“Stop calling me that!” the blond huffed immediately, and yes, he was sure of it now. Zoro was definitely trying to pull down far more bricks than Sanji was willing to give up.

But desperation rose within him, the deep annoyance over the fact that the oaf just _didn’t get it._ How could he, living in this country?

“You have the wrong idea!” Sanji growled, his chest clenching with anger. “The way things are with the Empress? Here? In Wano? It’s not like that where I’m from. My father is one step away from Kaido!”

“Yeah fucking right—” Zoro muttered darkly, giving a rude snort.

“Shut up! You have no idea what it’s like there!” Sanji cried, and he had to consciously force himself to calm down, to lower his voice. He dropped his head, running hands over his face for a moment, heartbeat thundering uncomfortably in his ears.

“...Look,” he breathed after a moment, more to himself than to Zoro. “I’m not about to have a competition over whose life is worse, alright?”

A heavy sigh left him, and when Zoro didn’t reply, he risked a glance at the other man, fearing a sneer or glower.

But it seemed the swordsman was done fighting him on the matter, his eyes lingering on Sanji for a few seconds before he too sighed and settled back, pulling swords into his lap and examining the hilts as if he’d decided to ignore Sanji’s presence entirely, yet again.

And it seemed he most certainly _had_ decided this when he set his swords aside altogether and pulled legs up, crossing them and straightening his back, planting hands firmly on his knees and closing his eyes.

The blond gaped at him as if he’d lost his mind, watching the swordsman still.

He wasn’t going to sleep, no….his breaths were too measured for that.

This was….meditation….? It wasn’t a common practice in his own country, but the blond recognized the pose. His brothers had mocked it on the rare occasion his kingdom hosted foreign warriors.

Well, whatever the hell it was, Sanji wasn’t going to allow the man to pretend his prying hadn’t happened. If Zoro thought it was fine to pry, then Sanji would very happily return the favor.

So he ducked his head to stare at the swordsman’s features, which had regained quite a bit of youth in their relaxing state, brows no longer drawn tight, lips bowed softly above his angular chin. There was even a bit of rosy sunburn dusting his nose, highlighting a few faint freckles. Why did he frown so much when his resting face was so….?

Sanji cut off his own thoughts, unsure of where they were even wandering. He hadn’t noticed his observation of the swordsman had led him to lean closer, and it was close enough that he had to sit back again, pretending he hadn’t moved.

“So what is your Seal anyway?” Sanji asked to distract himself, satisfied when Zoro tensed the instant he broke the silence. “Why not use your own and leave helpless children out of it altogether?”

It was as if Zoro had been expecting the interruption, as he replied, but didn’t open his eyes.

“It’s nothing that can do any good,” he said quietly, still facing straight ahead. “That’s why I’m a swordsman. And a true swordsman doesn’t use gimmicks. I grow by my own natural strength.”

Sanji scoffed loudly in hopes Zoro would look at him again, and it worked, Sanji’s smirk turning smug when their eyes finally met, the swordsman lifting an unamused brow.

“You call any of _this_ natural?” he said, mimicking Zoro’s pose to exaggerated effect, earning him enough of a neolithic death glare from the man that he had to chuckle.

“Besides,” Sanji added. “It’s not a gimmick! It’s your birthright. You were born with it, weren’t you? You’re lucky enough to have one, so embrace it!”

“I’m allowed to do what I want,” Zoro muttered, turning his head and closing eyes again in a clear attempt to end the conversation.

But Sanji was stubborn, pressing again, “Have you _ever_ used it?”

Zoro’s head whipped towards him suddenly with deadly focus, enough to have Sanji jump back slightly in surprise, both at the sudden movement and the strange return of that _pain_ he thought he’d done well to banish from Zoro’s eyes.

“Why are you so damn fascinated by it? You trying to mock me?” the swordsman hissed, past irritation to something beyond...something more powerful.

“No!” Sanji huffed, and if his own wall had lost a few bricks, he could practically see those same bricks piling on top of Zoro’s. “No, why would I—?”

“How the fuck do I know you’re not thinking about killing _me_ for it! Since you’re so obsessed.” That edge of desperation had returned to Zoro’s voice, as if he hoped it wasn’t the truth but feared it was.

“I’m not!” Sanji assured quickly, his hands coming up defensively before they slowly lowered to his lap and he looked away, a little ashamed of himself. As fun as it was to rile the man up, he’d clearly pushed too far this time, and it was enough that he had to sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually said sincerely. “It just….having one would’ve made my life a lot easier. I can’t help but fixate…”

He trailed off, trying not to fall into _sulking,_ but certainly feeling emotionally compromised. He wished he could stop that fixation. He wished he could stop comparing himself to others. He wished he could cultivate his own damned worth.

He shouldn’t have said anything. He shouldn’t have tried to break the man’s guard, especially knowing how it felt himself. He hadn’t thought himself that insensitive, but it seemed there was a lot he didn’t know about himself...

Silence fell between the two again, for long enough that Sanji contemplated getting up and finding his way back to the village. It was enough to make the self-hatred start its slow descent over his mind again…

But then Zoro spoke, and there was something in his voice that sent a pang through Sanji’s chest because the anger was gone. _Everything_ was gone from his demeanor save for a genuine confusion.

“Why did you run from me then….?” he murmured. “When I first brought you to the Capital…”

Sanji allowed himself to look at the swordsman again, observe the intensity in his eyes, his light breathing, inaudible under the rush of the water behind them.

He studied the hilt of his new sword instead, tracing the tightly-wrapped fabric on the handle as some sort of comfort to himself.

It took him a minute to reply, a minute full of doubts and insecurities telling him to keep his mouth shut as usual, to avoid the truth that so often rendered him powerless.

But in that moment, he was also powerless to resist that truth tumbling out of him.

“I didn’t run because of _you…”_ Sanji murmured, wishing he couldn’t _feel_ Zoro’s gaze still boring into him. “I ran because….all the jeers, the looks from the townspeople. Even today…” He shuddered at the memory. “It reminded me of a time in my life I’d like to forget, and it was too much. So don’t give yourself all the credit. You’re not that scary.”

He tried to end his confession with sarcasm, but he knew it hadn’t concealed anything, not when his voice was too unsteady, not when his eyes burned and his throat tightened uncomfortably.

Zoro exhaled heavily beside him, a shaky sound, but the blond didn’t spare him a glance, unwilling to see whatever negative reaction no doubt lingered on the swordsman’s face.

He’d said Zoro wasn’t scary, but the isolation he could bring about with his rejection….that was another thing entirely.

Perhaps he should have kept his guard up though, because a moment later, Zoro’s hand clamped onto his arm unexpectedly, the swordsman giving a hard, painful yank that sent Sanji tumbling off the low wall into the pool behind them, a yelp escaping him as he crashed into the freezing water. He barely managed to suck in a breath before he found himself submerged, limbs automatically flailing in a frantic panic.

But then, almost immediately, his back hit the bottom of the pool and he sat up with a pronounced gasp, the shallow water barely reaching his waist.

He sat there in shock, panting and dripping, Zoro’s smug grin fixed on him from several feet away.

“Wanna take that back?” the swordsman asked far too gleefully, and it took Sanji a few extra seconds to realize he was referring to Sanji’s ‘scary’ quip.

The blond scowled, only for dread to overcome him a second later when Zoro pushed up and splashed feet into the water himself. The swordsman grabbed Sanji’s collar and began dragging him, despite his attempts to pull himself away, directly towards the row of waterfalls. It took but a moment for Sanji to realize his intentions.

“O-Oi, what the hell are you—?!”

But it was a moment too late. Zoro shoved him right underneath one of the waterfalls spouting from above, the column of water crashing down onto Sanji’s head in an ice cold torrent.

An unbecoming screech and a string of spluttered curses, Sanji’s fingers doing their best to tear holes in Zoro’s robe as he tried to claw his way free.

Zoro was an unmoving, unflinching rock though, his hands pushing strongly on Sanji’s shoulders, keeping him in place, and when Sanji managed to glare up at him through the curtain of water cascading over his face, the swordsman’s smirk was downright devilish.

“Sit. Focus,” Zoro ordered simply, and Sanji found himself too dumbfounded to question it, merely gaped at the man as he finally stepped back, removing his hands…

...only to sit down beneath the stream of water beside him, assuming the same straight-backed, cross-legged pose he had before, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

He gave no further instruction, and in fact, the strange bastard closed his eyes again, effectively putting an end to their interaction once more.

Sanji stared for a minute more, unfortunately feeling every insult or response he could have had disappearing from his mind, the sensation of that water continuously pelting his head and shoulders the only thing filling his senses. It felt like bullets on his bandaged wound, and damn it all, Tsuru’s meticulous bandage job was now thoroughly ruined.

But the longer he sat there, with the roar of water in his ears and the sight of that tranquil courtyard before him, the more his fight left him. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he removed arms from his robe, taking his injured shoulder out of the water’s direct range, and closed his eyes, crossing legs and settling into the same pose he’d just teased Zoro for minutes earlier.

He grew accustomed to the water temperature, still cold but no longer stakes of icicles against his bare skin. He slowed his breaths, let that exhaustion he’d been struck with in the village come over him once more, calming his mind.

It felt odd, at first, to let his guard down so completely. Sanji wasn’t even sure he was capable of it, afraid he would flinch back to awareness at the slightest hint of a disturbance, but how could he when there was nothing to hear but his own heartbeat, nothing to feel but that cool spray.

He saw nothing behind his closed eyelids, his mind becoming void of stress and uncertainty for the first time in what felt like forever, certainly since his mother’s death.

He didn’t even see her as he drifted into nothingness, decided he didn’t want to, for once, didn’t want to dwell on things he couldn’t change, didn’t want to _exist_ in that moment because it was easier, far less painful, to disappear.

He saw nothing for the longest time, not his brothers’ hateful faces nor his father’s fists.

Just black...and a pair of beastly red eyes coming into focus in the darkness.

It didn’t startle him this time, surprisingly, and in fact, the eyes merely floated there, studying...not with killer intent, but with curiosity, the outline of that feline face just barely coming into view.

The creature tilted its head, flashing incisors when its mouth opened with a low huffed growl. Still massive as ever...

But it didn’t move, didn’t come closer....

It wouldn’t hurt him. Not now at least. He didn’t want to kill it. It shouldn’t have to die.

Zoro was wrong about that.

Zoro was…

…

He felt a hand touch his cheek in the darkness, a gentle, tentative touch that was somehow familiar….

It was gone as soon as it appeared, though he felt it move to his shoulder where it gripped with more certainty and gave a light shake.

Sanji wasn’t expecting it to take so much of his energy to crawl back to the light, his eyelids feeling heavy when he finally opened them to find Zoro standing before him, his hand falling back to his side where fingers clenched a little awkwardly.

The light silhouetting him from behind was far lower in the sky, shadows stretching longer across the ground.

How long had they been there…?

“You should get back to the palace,” Zoro was saying, adding, almost in answer to Sanji's mental question, “It’s getting late.”

The blond huffed, working to gather his senses a bit, something that seemed to happen in one fell swoop the second he moved out from under the waterfall.

Zoro caught his elbow as he stood, the swordsman pulling his hand back quickly as if the reflex had surprised him, and just like that, the world was back in stark clarity—the humidity in the air, the slight throb of his injury, the chill of his damp robes, the tension lingering between them, though Sanji could have imagined that...

“We haven’t even trained,” Sanji muttered eventually, brow furrowed as he tried to clear his head, feeling as if he’d just awoken from another strange dream, only to land in a stranger one that left his heart pounding and his breaths difficult.

Zoro moved away and that feeling dissipated somewhat, the blond letting out a harsh breath.

“Yes, we have,” the swordsman replied, cryptic as ever, but this time, Sanji opted not to voice his confusion, unsure if he even felt up to training in that moment.

He watched Zoro as the other man stepped out of the pool and gathered his swords, securing them to his hip once more.

It certainly looked like the man was preparing to leave, so Sanji followed slowly, wading through the water and climbing out of the pool himself, though he lingered, settling himself on the edge, watching the swordsman throw the wet fabric of his green robe over his shoulders.

“Let me guess,” Sanji eventually said, eyes not leaving the swordsman. “You’re going after the beast.”

“Yup,” Zoro replied without glancing back.

“Alone?”

“Yup.”

Alone…

Sanji fell quiet, an odd disappointment filling his chest that had no business being there. His own sword lay beside him, forgotten and foreign.

“Not gonna fight me on that?”

When Sanji lifted his head again, Zoro was looking at him, a brow quirked in question and perhaps a bit of surprise.

The blond sighed, shaking his head.

“I can admit when I’m not ready...” he muttered in defeat.

This time when Zoro smirked, it was far less spiteful, more gentle than anything.

“Damn straight,” the swordsman said. “Do you remember the way back?”

“Yeah… Easy,” Sanji mumbled. “Just follow the path down the magic waterfalls, and take the giant fish back to the Capital.”

Zoro rolled his eyes, but his tone was softer, a little amused, when he spoke again.

“Go back to the village and ask Tama for help. Think you can manage that?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Sanji replied, waving off the swordsman’s instructions more out of stubbornness than anything. Yes, he should get back. Yes, he was getting pretty damn hungry. Logic told him this. But he wanted to uphold the little pride he had left.

Still, as he busied himself with his own robe, slipping back into his sleeves and clumsily securing his own sword, he felt that small amount of pride slipping away because there he was wishing he didn’t have to return alone. The sun hadn’t set, and yet the prospect of being alone in the forest was already daunting. But it wasn’t just _the forest,_ it was anywhere.

Maybe he wanted the mosshead’s company. Maybe he didn’t want him to leave for the simple reason that he’d _liked_ this. He’d liked forgetting his fears, his worries…

He’d liked catching a glimpse of this secret world of Zoro’s, and he certainly wanted more answers. 

He wanted more time...

So that disappointment didn’t leave when Zoro started to walk away without another word, across the sand towards the tall gate opposite them, the sun catching the gold filigree of his swords, glinting off his earrings.

He should say something. He should ask him to meet again. Here. In the Capital.

Anywhere.

“Hey, Zoro,” he called after him, the swordsman’s steps faltering, sandals scuffing to a halt.

When he looked back over his shoulder, there was a glimpse of vulnerability in his silence.

“Don’t get killed,” Sanji finished, both a challenge and a sincere wish, he realized.

He wanted to see his stupid face again...

Zoro’s eyes widened minutely, chest expanding with a sharper inhale, the swordsman staring back for a moment. Then he nodded jerkily and turned away quickly, starting off for the gate once more.

Sanji wanted to see his stupid face again.

But he was unlikely to forget that lingering emotion he’d glimpsed through the cracks of Zoro’s wall.

Zoro had called him an idiot.

Yet he found himself hoping that maybe the swordsman possessed the same desire to see him again too.

**_TBC…_ **


End file.
